


This Song Is Not For You Lovers

by hell0lust



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Light BDSM, Mental Instability, Multi, Porn, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-12-16 14:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 63,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11830398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hell0lust/pseuds/hell0lust
Summary: Aubree Burke stood before the entrance of Cara Cara, inspecting her reflection in the glossy windows of the building. Nervously, she fussed with her hair, tucking a stray strand of long coppery hair behind her ear.I never thought I’d have to do this, again.Nearly four years had passed since the last time Aubree had gotten in front of the camera at Cara Cara. She’d only ever meant to get into the industry temporarily, as a means to an end. Five years had earned her enough to put her through undergrad and then law school. It had been stupid, obviously. Tampering with evidence, at the request of her now ex boyfriend. What had she been thinking? She’d been found out, and disbarred. Six years of higher education, plus three years working in the field, for nothing. Six months had passed, and her savings were dwindling. With no job prospects to speak of, she’d had no choice but to give Luann Delaney, her former boss, a call.Rejoining Cara Cara, Aubree Burke meets members of the Sons of Anarchy. One in particular, Chibs Telford, catches her eye. Sparks fly. Slow build.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing for SOA. Please be kind.

Aubree Burke stood before the entrance of Cara Cara, inspecting her reflection in the glossy windows of the building. Nervously, she fussed with her hair, tucking a stray strand of long coppery hair behind her ear.  
  
_I never thought I’d have to do this, again._  
  
Nearly four years had passed since the last time Aubree had gotten in front of the camera at Cara Cara. She’d only ever meant to get into the _industry_ temporarily, as a means to an end. Five years had earned her enough to put her through undergrad and then law school.  
  
It had been stupid, obviously. Tampering with evidence, at the request of her now ex boyfriend. What had she been thinking? She’d been found out, and disbarred. Six years of higher education, plus three years working in the field, for nothing. Six months had passed, and her savings were dwindling. With no job prospects to speak of, she’d had no choice but to give Luann Delaney, her former boss, a call.  
  
She gazed carefully at herself, considering her attire. Still hopelessly clinging to her former career, she’d dressed in a black pencil skirt and a cream colored shell, paired with her favorite black pumps. She glanced at her timepiece; 9:45am. Luann was expecting her at ten. Aubree closed her eyes, taking a moment to mentally prepare herself. She inhaled slowly through her nose, exhaling slower still. _Inhale. Exhale._ “You can do this, Aub,” she mumbled lowly to herself, adjusting her bag so that it swung more comfortably on her right arm. With practiced poise, she entered the building, head held high as she passed a swath of blondes huddled in the foyer.  
  
“Can I help you?” one of the blondes asked, eyeing her critically, arms folded against her chest.  
  
“I’m here to see Luann.”  
  
“And you would be?”  
  
“Aubree Burke,” she retorted, flicking imaginary lint from her top.  
  
The blonde nodded, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. “You were in those-”  
  
“Yeah, that was me,” she affirmed, already knowing which film series the girl was referring to.  
  
Several years back, she had starred in a series of bondage films that had catered to a certain clientele. Namely, those with rape fantasies. There had been quite a bit of brutality in the films, more than most of the girls working for Luann would have been willing to deal with. Aubree had taken it in stride, nonplussed by being roughed up a little. _God knows I was getting worse at home_ , she thought bitterly.  
  
“Luann’s in her office. Go on in.”

* * *

“Aubree,” Luann greeted her, smiling fondly. “How are you?”  
  
“I’ve been better,” she replied, smiling weakly.  
  
“Sit, sit,” Luann said soothingly, motioning towards a chair.  
  
“Do you mind if I…” she trailed off, tilting her head towards the office door.  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Quickly, she shut the door, taking a seat opposite Luann.  
  
“So why don’t you tell me what happened? You were pretty vague over the phone, my dear.”  
  
Aubree sighed, anxiously fidgeting with her watch. “I um… got disbarred.”’  
  
Luann’s right eyebrow rose, but she remained silent, waiting for her to continue.  
  
“Chris got nabbed for armed robbery. You remember Chris, right?”  
  
“I do,” Luann agreed, her tone making it all too apparent what she thought of her ex boyfriend.  
  
“He um… he asked me to tamper with the evidence…” she trailed off, tears beginning to well in her eyes.  
  
“Oh, honey…” Luann sighed, rising to her feet. She strode around her desk, pulling her into an embrace.  
  
“I can’t believe it’s all gone, just like that,” Aubree mumbled, lips quivering as she forced back tears. “I… I worked so hard and it’s just… for nothing. It was all for nothing.”  
  
“You’ll be alright, darlin’. You made a mistake. We all do.”  
  
She nodded, staring down at her lap.  
  
“Did you leave him?”  
  
“Something like that,” she mumbled, ignoring the dull aching in her chest.  
  
Luann eyed her critically. “What do you mean by that? He isn’t going to be coming around here, looking for handouts like-”  
  
“No, Luann. He’s done. He left me.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Aubree laughed, lips twisted into a painful smile. “Wasn’t of much use to him once I got disbarred, was I? No money coming in, no job prospects. He followed his pecker to greener pastures,” she replied bitterly, rolling her eyes.  
  
“You’ve got a place to stay?”  
  
“I don’t need handouts, Luann. I just need to work so I can-”  
  
“Stop,” Luann interrupted, holding out a hand. “Aubree, you worked for me for five years. I’ve known you since you were a little eighteen year old waif, fresh out of high school. You’re family. This isn’t a handout I’m offering you, this is me looking out for my own. Do you understand?”  
  
Aubree nodded, feeling a wave of relief. “Thanks.”  
  
“So let’s get down to business, shall we?”  
  
“Of course,” she agreed, nodding.  
  
“I was thinking it may be a good idea to start you off by reprising an old role. Get your name back out there again,” Luann started, rummaging through her desk for a file.  
  
“Makes sense,” she agreed, nodding. “What did you have in mind?”  
  
“Are you still comfortable with the type of work you did before?” she asked.  
  
Aubree nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”  
  
“Why don’t we start off with some light bondage? Get you re-acclimated?”  
  
“You don’t need to take it easy on me, Luann. What will make you the most money?”  
  
“You know damn well that you were one of my most popular girls, Aubree. The guys love a cute redhead who likes to play rough. Let’s reintroduce you, see if we can’t revive your old fan-base?”  
  
“Are we talking a full length shoot or just a promo?”  
  
“Promo. Some light bondage, spanking… just a teaser of sorts to reintroduce you. I’m thinking we’ll have your hair down, and we’ll shoot you from behind for most of it, then show your face when we reintroduce you to the lineup of Cara Cara.”  
  
“Works for me,” she replied, shrugging. “So are we going to shoot today or?”  
  
Luann laughed. “No, I still need to figure some things out. Why don’t you take today to check out the studio, meet the other girls? We’ll block the scene tomorrow and shoot on Thursday. We’re going to have to get you into wardrobe, too. And you’ll want to meet my business partners.”  
  
“Business partners?” Aubree asked, tension rising in her shoulders. Half the reason she’d returned to the studio was for the safety it provided, being a porn studio run and directed by a woman.  
  
“The Sons of Anarchy,” Luann replied, the expression on her face unreadable.  
  
Aubree nodded, considering. She knew that Luann’s old man was a Son. “I thought you were doing well, why would you need-”  
  
“Things change,” Luann shrugged. “They’re decent guys, very enthusiastic about getting their hands in the porno business. And it never hurts to have a little muscle around to keep the competition away.”

* * *

Aubree nervously fidgeted with the cord of her silk robe, waiting to be called to the set. Though she was anxious now, she knew that all of her fears and nerves would dissipate the minute the cameras started rolling. Luann was right, she was a natural. _Even though law didn’t work out, at least I’m good at something._  
  
Carefully, Aubree lowered herself to her knees, placing a hand on Alan’s hip. “Welcome back,” he greeted her, offering her a warm smile.  
  
“Thanks,” she said softly, brushing a stray hair from out of her eyes. She had worked with Alan a lot in the past. He was familiar, which was comforting. “It’s… good to be back,” she finished, forcing a smile. If she kept saying it, maybe she would start believing it.  
  
“Let’s get started,” Luann called out, clapping her hands to get their attention.  
  
“Let’s do this,” Aubree said lowly, smiling at Alan.  
  
They started with the first scene, Aubree sucking slowly on Alan’s dick, the back of her head to the camera. Following Luann’s direction, she quickened her pace, keeping her body loose as Alan gripped the back of her head, pulling her toward him. She followed his pace, allowing him to fuck her mouth, her thoughts miles away. _I forgot how nice this could be, functioning on auto-pilot._ She barely noticed when Luann called _cut_ , her eyes still dazed as she rose to her feet.  
  
“Is it weird, being back?” Alan asked, helping her to her feet.  
  
“Nah,” she shrugged, stopping to let one of the assistants come to reapply her lipstick. “It’s like riding a bike, you never forget.”  
  
They began filming their next scene, Aubree on her knees on an ornate rug, thankfully heavily padded, wrists fastened behind her head in an over-arm tie. She tugged carefully, ensuring that there was enough give in the ties fastening her wrists to each ankle. Again, only the back of her head was in view of the camera, Alan fucking her from behind, one hand on her waist, the other tangled in her coppery mane.  
  
Once satisfied with the footage she’d gotten, Luann called cut, giving the pair another moment to relax.  
  
“Where’d you find that delight you’ve got on?” Alan asked, eyeing her up and down. “Luann pull that from storage for you?”  
  
Aubree shook her head, adjusting one of the straps of her pink Swarovski crystal bead and rose gold chain playsuit. “It’s from my own collection. Agent Provocateur.”  
  
“Seems like the audience we’ve got is enjoying it,” Alan observed, nodding his head.  
  
Aubree followed his gaze, observing the four men who were standing behind Luann and her crew, watching. “Who are they?” she asked, eyes still focused on the men.  
  
“The Sons,” Alan retorted, smirking.  
  
Aubree nodded, saying nothing. “They hang around often?” she asked, casually running her fingers through her hair.  
  
Alan nodded. “The really tall one in the beanie, that’s Opie. Lyla’s boyfriend. The dreamy looking blonde is Jax Teller, VP of the Sons. The older guy with the black hair is Tig. He’s a lively one.”  
  
“And the last one?” she asked, subtly nodding toward the unidentified man.  
  
“That’s Chibs.”  
  
“Chibs?” she repeated, frowning.  
  
“Nickname. From the scars on his cheeks.”  
  
Aubree nodded, squinting to get a closer look. Sure enough, she caught sight of the pale scars ghosting across his cheeks, starting on either side of his mouth and curving upward toward his ears. “Huh, you’re right,” you agreed, shrugging.

* * *

“Aubree,” Luann called out, drawing her attention.  
  
Aubree nodded, walking toward the blonde. “What’s up? You ready to start shooting again?” she asked, hands on her hips.  
  
“I wanted you to meet a few of my associates,” Luann replied, smirking. “Jax, Opie, Tig, and Chibs,” she continued, introducing the four.  
  
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Aubree retorted wryly, flashing a sultry grin in the men’s direction.  
  
“What’s your name, darlin’?” the blond, Jax, asked, eyeing her up and down.  
  
“Aubree,” she quipped, eyeing him warily. Though he was indeed very handsome, he looked a little too similar to Chris for her comfort.  
  
“Haven’t seen you around here, before,” the black-haired man, Tig, observed, leering at her. “Where’s a pretty little thing like you’ve been hiding?”  
  
“Ignore him,” Opie told her, rolling his eyes. “He has a thing for redheads.”  
  
“You look familiar. How long you been in the industry, doll?” Tig asked.  
  
Aubree shrugged. “I just got back in… worked for Luann while I was in college and part of law school.”  
  
“So you’re a lawyer?” Jax asked, seemingly impressed.  
  
“ _Was_ a lawyer,” she corrected him, sighing heavily.  
  
“What do you mean by that?” Tig prompted.  
  
“I got disbarred.”  
  
Tig opened his mouth to ask something else, but Chibs silenced him, putting a warning hand on his arm. “Leave the lass alone, eh, Tiggy?”  
  
“Thanks,” she said softly, eyeing the man up, silently assessing him. He was tall, had a good six inches on her. His hair was a dark brown, peppered with the beginnings of gray. She’d peg him to be in his mid forties, though he still had a decent body for his age. She batted her eyelashes, shooting him an appreciative look. “Are you a Scot or Irish?” she asked, engaging Chibs in conversation.  
  
“Scot,” he retorted, matching her own gaze.  
  
“I thought so, but couldn’t be sure.”  
  
“Oh. ‘An why is that, lass?”  
  
Aubree shrugged. “I spent a semester of law school in Ireland. I’d been thinking about international law."  
  
“I was hoping you boys wouldn’t mind showing Aubree a good time. She hasn’t been back in Northern Cali in what, four years?” Luann asked, interrupting.  
  
“Sure, sure,” Jax replied amicably, smirking. “You staying in Charming?”  
  
She nodded. “I’m staying with Luann until I figure things out,” she replied, shrugging.  
  
“My lease isn’t up in LA for another two months and I can’t swing paying rent for two places right now,” she elaborated.  
  
“Why don’t you come back to the clubhouse with us when you’re finished up, Aubree? We’ll celebrate your return to the industry.”  
  
Aubree glanced at Luann, who shot her a knowing look. “I don’t know,” she started, wringing her hands together.  
  
“You need to get back out there, Aub. They’re good boys, for the most part. I’ll make sure Gemma keeps an eye on you, she’ll keep them in line,” Luann replied, nudging her toward the men.  
  
“Bad breakup?” Tig asked, appearing curious.  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered, averting her eyes.  
  
“He anyone we need to worry about, Luann?” Opie asked, flexing his hands. “Think he’ll show up here and try and start anything?"  
  
Luann’s eyes darkened. “If he knows what’s good for him he’ll stay away from her.”  
  
Aubree frowned, shooting her a furious look. She knew Luann had her suspicions about certain aspects of her relationship with Chris, unpleasant things she’d neither admittied nor denied. “I don’t know about going right there, but I could stop by later this evening. Once I’ve had time to shower and change,” Aubree relented, knowing that it was better to go along with Luann’s wishes.  
  
Luann nodded, grinning triumphantly. “Excellent.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So,” Luann started, settling down at her desk, “how does it feel to be back in front of the camera?”  
  
“Good,” Aubree replied, forcing a smile.  
  
“You don’t mean that,” Luann stated, smiling sadly, “but nonetheless I’m glad you’re back.”  
  
“It wasn’t bad,” Aubree started, pulling her long hair up and tying it into a knot atop her head. “It’s familiar, it felt good. It’s just… not what I thought I’d be doing for the rest of my life.”  
  
“I told you, you’re a natural. The camera loves you.”  
  
Aubree sighed. “Did everything look alright on film? It’s been a few years, I’m not as-”  
  
“Stop. You’ve got a killer bod. And unlike most of the girls here, you haven’t pushed out a kid or two. You of all people have nothing to worry about,” she paused, shaking her head. “The boys certainly thought you were a knockout.”  
  
“Oh?” she asked, right eyebrow raised.  
  
“If I’m not mistaken, I’d say you caught sight of something that struck your fancy.”  
  
“Hmmm,” Aubree muttered, noncommittally.   
  
“Would have thought Jax would be the one to catch your eye,” Luann continued.  
  
Aubree cleared her throat, rapping her fingernails on the desk.   
  
“You can stop playing coy, Aubree. I saw you checking out Chibs.”  
  
“He seems nice,” she replied, choosing to ignore Luann’s pointed accusation. “How old is he?” she asked casually.  
  
“Not quite old enough to be your father. It’d be a stretch, at least,” she retorted, smirking.   
  
Aubree laughed, shaking her head. “He’s handsome. In decent shape for his age,” she observed, smiling.  
  
“He’s aged better than some of the older ones in the club. Put on some weight,” Luann offered, shrugging, “But who hasn’t?”  
  
“Looks pretty fit to me,” Aubree retorted, shrugging. “He looks strong.”  
  
“He was trimmer when he was younger. You should have seen him when he first showed up here, fresh out of Belfast,” Luann elaborated, grinning. “Obviously I was Otto’s old lady, but goddamn.”  
  
Aubree nodded, toying with the hem of her dress. “Any particular reason you’re so determined to have me mingling with the club?”  
  
Luann shrugged. “Like I said. You need to get back out there. Meet a man who’ll treat you right.”  
  
“Chris was-”  
  
“Don’t,” Luann interrupted, sighing. “Don’t defend him. I wouldn’t be so quick to forget the marks he put on you. A real man would never raise a hand to his woman.”  
  
Aubree remained silent, eyes misting. “I know,” she whispered, biting her lip.   
  
“Chibs seemed quite taken with you. You should pursue him. Chat him up at the club. He’ll like that.”  
  
“What makes you say that?” she queried.  
  
“He was eyeing you up, Aubree. He definitely liked what he saw.”  
  
“Like any man wouldn’t be in a porn studio,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “It’s in their nature to gawk when tits are on display.”  
  
“He wasn’t outright complimenting you, that’s a sign if there ever was one.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Aubree asked, frowning.  
  
“Chibs is as red-blooded as any other man, if he sees a piece of ass he finds attractive, he’ll let her know. But when it comes to gals he fancies, he plays it close to the vest.”  
  
“But you said he was eyeing me up…”  
  
“Yes, he was. But he wasn’t making lewd comments. And he stopped Tig when he was prying about your personal business. He fancies you, honey. I’ve known Chibby a long time… it’d be nice to see him settled down with a nice girl. Someone like you.”  
  
“So he’s going to be at the clubhouse tonight?” Aubree asked, eyebrow raised.  
  
“Of course he will be, darling. He doesn’t have an old lady, not really. He’s always hanging around.”  
  
“What do you mean by that?” she asked, frowning.  
  
“Nothing,” Luann retorted, shrugging. “So you’ll go?”  
  
“Yes, I said I would, didn't I?”  
  
“And you’ll talk to Chibby?” Luann pressed.  
  
Aubree rolled her eyes. “If he’s not up to his eyes in crow eater pussy, I’d surely exchange pleasantries with him,” she retorted.  
  
“And here I thought you weren’t accustomed to MC club culture,” Luann noted, smirking.  
  
“I worked for an old lady for five years, I’d hope I would have picked up something about MC life during that time,” Aubree retorted, shrugging.

* * *

Obediently, Aubree followed Luann into the Sons clubhouse, making a beeline for the bar. Luann followed her, motioning for her best friend, Gemma, to follow suit.   
  
“So is this the gorgeous redhead these idiots have been blathering about all afternoon?” Gemma asked, eyeing her up and down.  
  
“Aubree,” she offered, extending her hand to the brunette.   
  
“New talent?” Gemma asked, turning to Luann.  
  
“Old talent. She used to work for me… and has made her triumphant return to Cara Cara,” Luann said proudly, squeezing her shoulder.   
  
Aubree rolled her eyes, cringing. _Christ, this is embarrassing._  
  
“Why don’t you get yourself a drink, Aub. I need to discuss something with Gemma,” Luann suggested, shooting Aubree a pointed look.   
  
Aubree nodded. “Sure.”  
  
“Sack, get the girl whatever she wants,” Gemma barked, getting the attention of the young man standing behind the bar. “Prospect,” she offered, shrugging.  
  
“What can I get you…” the man asked, offering Aubree an appreciative look.  
  
“It’s Aubree. Whiskey on the rocks would be fine, dear,” she replied, offering him a weak smile.  
  
“You’re one of Luann’s girls?” he asked, placing the drink before her.  
  
“Yup,” she agreed, sighing heavily. She brought the glass to her lips, taking a deep sip. _Heaven_. Two gulps later and the glass was empty. She shoved the glass toward the man, looking at him expectantly.  
  
“Another?” he asked.  
  
“Just keep them coming,” she muttered, arms resting heavily on the bar.

* * *

“Fresh meat?” Gemma asked, nodding towards the redhead seated at the bar.  
  
Luann laughed, shaking her head. “Nah. She used to work for me a couple years back. She’s having a rough time, so I brought her back on.”  
  
Gemma’s eyebrows rose, waiting for Luann to elaborate.  
  
“She’s a smart girl. Well-educated. I’m proud of her, she wasn’t the stereotypical, ‘I’m just doing this to pay my way through school’ girl. She was the real deal, even went to law school. She made something of herself, until some scumbag ruined it for her,” Luann continued, frowning.  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“She got disbarred. She tampered with evidence for the scumbag. He left her. She won’t admit it, but she’s heartbroken.”  
  
“So you’re playing matchmaker,” Gemma said, shaking her head. “Anyone in mind? She looks about Juice’s age. They might make a nice pair,” she offered.  
  
Luann shook her head. “She’s already got her eyes on someone,” she retorted.  
  
“Who? Jax?”  
  
Luann shook her head. “I thought she’d go for him, but no.”  
  
“Don’t make me guess, who is it?” Gemma asked.  
  
Luann smirked, nodding her head in Chibs’ direction, who was sitting with Tig and a few sweetbutts, having a drink.  
  
“Chibs?” Gemma asked, eyebrow raised in surprise. “Are you sure?”  
  
“Yeah. She admitted to it. She thinks he’s handsome,” Luann affirmed.  
  
“Think he’ll go for it?” Gemma asked, curious.  
  
“He certainly seemed interested in her. I saw the way he was eyeing her up at the studio.”  
  
The two glanced back the the redhead, observing her as she sat alone at the bar. “Not much for socializing, is she?” Gemma observed.  
  
Luann rolled her eyes. “She’s not exactly the typical sweetbutt, Gem. Even you must recognize that.”  
  
Gemma nodded. “She’s got too much pride, I can see that. She’s certainly putting those drinks away, isn’t she?”  
  
“Maybe I should go sit with her,” Luann said, frowning. “I wanted her to let loose, have a good time.”  
  
“Or we could have Chibs join her,” Gemma suggested.  
  
“Gemma, don’t,” Luann laughed, shaking her head.  
  
“What? You said he was checking her out. I’m just going to get him moving is all,” she retorted, rising to her feet and striding towards Chibs.  
  
“Chibs,” Gemma greeted him, taking a seat beside Tig.  
  
“Hello, Mum. What’s going on?” he asked, grinning.  
  
“I heard you boys joined Luann on set today. Have a good time?” she asked, feigning casualness.  
  
“Aye,” he affirmed, waving the sweetbutt beside him away.  
  
“So you met the new girl?” Gemma asked.  
  
Tig nodded. “I would kill to get a taste of that ginger snatch,” he said earnestly, winking at Gemma.  
  
“She was asking about you,” Gemma said, addressing Chibs.  
  
“Is that so?”  
  
“Mhm,” Gemma replied, nodding. “In fact, there she is over at the bar, all by her lonesome. Maybe you could go say hello, keep her company,” she continued, shooting him a pointed look.  
  
“Perhaps I will,” Chibs agreed, rising to his feet.

* * *

Five drinks later, her vision began to blur, much to her relief. She brought the glass to her lips, savoring the taste of another sip.  
  
“Everything alright?”  
  
Aubree froze, suddenly aware someone was speaking to her. “What?” she asked dumbly, shaking her head in an effort to clear her thoughts.   
  
Chibs observed her for a moment, a vague look of concern etched on his face. “You’ve been sitting here alone pounding back whiskey like it’s water,” he observed, taking a sip from his own glass.   
  
“I’m _celebrating_ ,” she replied cryptically, taking a deep sip from her glass. “My triumphant return to porn.”  
  
Chibs frowned, taking a seat at the bar to her right. “I don’t think its customary to celebrate alone, lass.”  
  
Aubree grinned, turning to face him. “So why don’t you join me?” she asked seductively, placing a hand high up on his left thigh.   
  
His eyebrows rose but he said nothing, reaching for his glass.  
  
“Cheers,” she smirked, clinking her glass to his.

* * *

“So how long have you been in the states?” Aubree asked, leaning closer into Chibs’ personal space as she took another sip of her drink.  
  
“It’s been years, now,” he replied, shrugging.   
  
“You like it here?”  
  
“What’s not to like?” he smirked, snaking an arm around her waist.  
  
“Want to know something?” she asked, smirking back.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
Aubree leaned forward, pressing her lips close to his ear. “I want you to fuck me,” she whispered, abandoning her own chair to climb into his lap.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Mhmm,” she affirmed, draping her arms around his neck.  
  
Chibs smirked, apparently quite pleased with himself.  
  
“Luann said you guys would show me a good time…. don’t you want to show me a good time?” she asked, challenging him.   
  
“You sure you want this, little girl?” he asked, carefully observing her. “You’ve had quite a bit to drink.”  
  
“I’ve wanted it since I saw you at the studio,” she assured him, pupils blown out with lust. “It’s been a while… since anyone caught my eye.”  
  
“You don’t say,” Chibs retorted, draining the contents of his glass.   
  
“Do you want me?” she asked, twirling a strand of her red hair around her finger.  
  
“God yes,” he affirmed.  
  
“Have you seen my films, Chibby?” she asked, grabbing his still filled glass and taking a sip.  
  
“Can’t say I have,” he admitted, taking the glass from her hand and taking a sip.  
  
“I like it _rough_. Think you can handle that?” she asked, pulling the glass from his hand.  
  
“Whatever you want, lass.”  
  
“Do you want me?”  
  
“What do you think?” he asked dryly, his free hand teasing further up her thigh, under the skirt of her dress.  
  
“Luann said you liked what you saw, watching me work,” Aubree laughed, resting her head on his shoulder.   
  
“Aye, lass. You’re gorgeous.”  
  
Smirking, Aubree placed her hand over his, guiding him further up her skirt, rubbing his fingers against her now damp underwear. She shot him a lustful look, lips pressed into a pout.  
  
“I’ve got a room back in the dorms,” he quipped, taking her hint.  
  
“Lead the way,” she smirked, rising to her feet.


	3. Chapter 3

The moment the door shut, Aubree grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, shoving him towards the bed.  
  
“Eager, are we, lass?” Chibs asked, shaking his head in bemusement as the lithe redhead attempted to shove him around.  
  
“Mhmm,” she agreed, pulling her dress over her head, tossing it aside carelessly.  
  
Chibs took a moment to observe her, appreciating the sight before him. Smooth, pale skin. Small but nice tits, each nipple pierced with a silver hoop. A trim waist paired nicely with shapely hips. It was nothing short of a miracle he could still pull prime pussy like this.  
  
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she teased, smirking at him.  
  
Chibs laughed. “You’re a cheeky one.”  
  
“Are you just gonna stand there and stare at me all night,or are you gonna fuck me?” she pouted, pulling at the strings of her underwear.  
  
Chibs nodded, quickly undressing. “So-”  
  
Aubree wasted no time, shoving him towards the bed. “How do you want me?” she asked, digging her nails into his back as he pulled her closer.  
  
“Your call, love. Supposed to be showing you a good time, aren’t I?”  
  
“I want to ride you,” she affirmed, climbing onto the bed, motioning for him to join her.  
  
“Yeah?” he asked, doing as requested.  
  
“Mhmmm,” she murmured, drawing him closer and pressing her lips to his.  
  
Gripping the back of his neck, she pulled him closer, biting down on his lower lip as she slid down on him, smirking as she felt the surprised gasp of breath escape his lips. “Christ,” he muttered, pupils blown out.  
  
“ _Fuck_ , yes,” she cried out, gripping his shoulders as she continued to fuck herself on him, quickening her pace.  
  
She glared at him as he tried to take control of the pace, rocking his hips to match her pace. “No,” she barked, clenching tightly around him. “Let me fuck you, Chibby… let me do it.”  
  
He complied, lying back and appreciating the view before him. He grabbed a handful of her copper locks, giving it an experimental. He smirked as she moaned in pleasure, once again clenching around him. “God, yes,” she muttered, fingernails digging harder still into his arms.  
  
“Pull my fucking hair. Harder!” she demanded, breath hot on his ear.  
  
“Yeah, just like that,” she cooed, her breathing labored. “God, yes.”  
  
His free hand reached up to touch her chest, toying with her nipple ring before wandering upward, brushing lightly against her rather prominent sternum. He felt her left hand release it’s grip on him, allowing her to guide his hand around her neck. “Choke me,” she demanded, pressing his hand harder against her throat.  
  
Chibs glanced up at her, eyeing her curiously. “You sure?” he asked, not sure he’d heard correctly.  
  
“Shut the fuck up and choke me, already,” she screamed, slamming her hips against his.  
  
Chibs did as told, gripping her neck tightly. He grinned as the redhead emitted a low, guttural groan. “God yes, _yes_ ,” she mumbled, clenching tightly. “Just like that,” she moaned, eyes shut.  
  
“You like that, lass?” he asked, gasping for breath. He was close.  
  
“Mhmm,” she agreed, placing a hand over his around her throat.  
  
“I’m close, lass.”  
  
“Good. So am I,” she smirked, squeezing her hand tightly over his.

* * *

Chibs woke to an empty bed. He frowned, surprised. He hadn’t had a woman slip out in the middle of the night, post-coitus, in a long while. Usually, that was his role, slipping out and leaving the woman to sort herself out whenever she woke. What day was it, anyway? Friday? He shrugged. Maybe she had another shoot or something. That was probably it. He stretched, wincing as he became aware of a shooting pain on his right shoulder. Rising to his feet, he strode to the bathroom, in search of a mirror to get a better look. “Christ, she bit me,” he muttered, shaking his head.  
  
It wasn’t as if he minded. It had been good sex, probably the best he’d had in a long while. She’d been pretty drunk, but it hadn’t impacted her performance. Most of the crow eaters were basically useless when they drank that much, were sloppy. He’d gotten used to listless bodies lying there and taking it as he had his way with them. Aubree though, she’d been an active participant. And bossy, too. He smirked, recalling the past evening’s events. He took a quick shower, dressing and stumbling out to the main area of the clubhouse, in dire need of caffeine.  
  
“So how was it?” Tig asked expectantly, the minute Chibs sat at the bar, coffee in hand.  
  
Chibs smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. He’d never quite developed a taste for the stuff, but he couldn’t be arsed to bother keeping his preferred brand of tea on hand at the clubhouse. Over the years, he’d learned to tolerate the bitter taste.  
  
“Was that Aubree Burke you were with last night, Chibby?” Juice asked excitedly, eagerly taking a seat beside him.  
  
“Yeah, why?” he asked, observing Juice curiously.  
  
“Dude, she’s like my favorite porn star, ever!” he exclaimed, grinning. “Have you _seen_ her stuff? She’s incredible. So hot.”  
  
Chibs shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee. “No, can’t say I have,” retorted, a faint smile on his lips. _But perhaps I should take a look._  
  
“Really though, how was it?” Tig pressed, smirking. “Sons-worthy pussy or nah?”  
  
Chibs grinned. “Wha’ do you think?”  
  
Juice looked from Tig to Chibs. “Is she still here?” he asked, nodding towards the dorms.  
  
Chibs shook his head. “Nah.”  
  
Juice frowned. “Damn. I was hoping I’d get to meet her. What, did she slip out earlier?”  
  
“I s’pose so.”  
  
“Aubree fucking Burke. You’re one lucky bastard, Chibby.”  
  
Chibs reached for his coffee, contemplating asking Juice what exactly was so special about the girl’s films. _I’ll wait til after we finish this run. No rush._  
  
“So are we getting this show on the road or what, lads?” he asked, rising to his feet.

* * *

Chibs waited until Tuesday, five days after the run, to approach Juice about the films Aubree was in.  
  
As usual, the boy was holed up in his room, eyes glued to his laptop screen. He rapped lightly on the door frame, drawing the boy’s attention.  
  
“Juicy Boy.”  
  
Juice glanced up from his laptop, grinning as he caught sight of Chibs. “What’s up?” he asked.  
  
“Got a minute?” Chibs asked, leaning against the door frame.  
  
“Sure. What’s up, man?”  
  
“You happen to have any of those videos you were mentioning the other day?”  
  
Juice gazed at him for a moment, confused. He frowned, then nodded in recognition. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah! I’ve got a bunch of shit with Aubree in it!” he affirmed.  
  
“What’s so special about her films, Juice?”  
  
“I didn’t say they were special, I just meant that I really like them, she’s hot as shit, man, that’s all-”  
  
“She mentioned it. She asked me if I’d seen her films,” Chibs retorted, cutting Juice off.  
  
“In what context?” he frowned.  
  
“I dunnae, Juice. She asked me dat, then said she liked it rough.”  
  
“She does kink videos, Chibby,” Juice said, smirking as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
“What sort of kinks?”  
  
Juice shrugged. “Mostly sub/dom shit. A lot of bondage. The rape ones aren’t really my taste but…” he trailed off.  
  
Chibs nodded, understanding. _Well, that explains that. This could be interesting_.  
  
“Is she like that for real?” Juice asked, breaking Chibs’ concentration.  
  
“Like what?” he asked, irritated.  
  
“Like into that kind of thing, bondage. Being dominated.”  
  
Chibs shot him a look.  
  
“What? I’m just curious, is all,” Juice retorted, laughing.  
  
“I don’ tie girls up right off the bat, Juicy,” Chibs retorted, rolling his eyes.  
  
“You mind if I check out a few of those films, lad?” he asked, changing the subject.  
  
“Yeah. Just don’t get jizz all over my keyboard. It took me forever to clean after Tig borrowed it,” Juice replied, nodding.  
  
“Aye, I’ll do my best,” Chibs agreed.

* * *

“So you’re something of a BDSM queen, ar’ ya?” Chibs asked, leaning against the door frame of Aubree’s dressing room.  
  
Aubree looked up from where she was seated on the floor in a straddle, stretching in preparation for her shoot that afternoon. She smiled at Chibs, pleased to see him.  
  
“I was wondering when you’d be back around,” Aubree retorted, shaking her head. “Haven’t seen you in two weeks, Chibs. My feelings were starting to get a little hurt,” she continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
Chibs laughed. “You’re the one who pulled a disappearing act on me, lass. I’d been hoping for round two.”  
  
“I wouldn’t be opposed to a repeat performance,” Aubree replied, smirking.  
  
“Juicy Boy was real disappointed he didn’t get to meet you.”  
  
“Who?” she asked, frowning.  
  
“One of my brothers.”  
  
“Ah. He’s a fan, I guess?”  
  
“Aye. He was kind enough to show me a few of those film ye alluded to.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“Not bad, little girl. You’re a kinky little thing, aren’t ya?”  
  
“That’s my niche,” she agreed, shrugging.  
  
She resumed her stretching, watching Chibs watching her.  
  
“What’re you doing down there, anyway?” he asked, nodding toward her.  
  
“Stretching,” she replied, sighing. “I’ve got a busy afternoon ahead of me. Want to make sure I’m ready.”  
  
“You on set today?”  
  
“Yeah,” she agreed, nodding. “I’m getting flogged on the St. Andrew’s Cross.”  
  
“Sounds hot,” he quipped, leering.  
  
“Oh yeah,” she agreed, mockingly. “A little whip-play and then I take it in the ass, still tied up there.”  
  
“Wouldn’t think you’d need to stretch for that,” Chibs commented.  
  
“Have you ever been tied up for hours? Trust me, stretching beforehand will make all the difference. My arms hurt like a bitch when they’re tied elevated for too long and I haven’t stretched. “  
  
“You’ve plans for after?” he asked, casually.  
  
“I’ve got a hot date with Luann’s bath tub and a bag of epsom salt,” she said wryly, rolling her eyes.  
  
She sighed, heavily. “I’m still getting reacquainted to this… _lifestyle_. It’s been a few years since I’ve had my body contorted every which way on a day to day basis.”  
  
“Aye, I suppose it takes some getting used to,” he agreed, folding his arms against his chest.  
  
“Why do you ask?” she questioned, head tilted in a quizzical expression.  
  
“Just thinking I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance,” he retorted, shrugging. “Though it sounds like you’ve got a full schedule this evening.”  
  
His burner phone buzzed in his pocket.  
  
“I suppose I should be heading out,” he said, nodding toward the door.  
  
“Club business?” she asked.  
  
“Aye.”  
  
Aubree nodded, rising to her feet. He watched as she grabbed a scrap of paper off the dressing table, scribbling something on it. “Here,” she told him, shoving the paper into his pocket, her hip brushing against his half-stiff cock. “Call me, sometime.”


	4. Chapter 4

Aubree woke with a start, startled by the incessant buzzing of her phone. “Hello?” she asked groggily, answering.  
  
“Did I wake ye, lass?”  
  
A small smile crept up her lips at the sound of the familiar Scottish accent on the other end of the line. “Yeah… what time is it, anyway?” she asked.  
  
“Sorry, didn’t meantae wake ye.”  
  
“It’s fine… anything I can help you with?” Aubree asked, smirking as she scooted herself into an upright position.  
  
Two days after she’d given Chibs her number, he’d called her. And he hadn’t stopped calling, since. She’d been meeting up with him several times a week, indulging in mind-blowing sex.  
  
“I just got home…” he trailed off.  
  
Aubree got out of bed, phone still held to her ear. To her annoyance, Chibs tended to beat around the bush when it came to these hookups. While it was refreshing to have someone bother with putting up the facade that he wanted her company for more than sex, she couldn’t help but long for the simplicity of the text message booty call. _So much easier_.  
  
“I can be at the clubhouse in ten,” she offered, beginning to dig through her closet for a dress to throw on.  
  
“I’m at home, love. As in, my house.”  
  
Aubree paused, taken aback. “You want me to come to your house?” she asked, surprised.  
  
“Is that a problem?”  
  
“No. No. Just text me the address. I’ll get dressed and head out.”  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Aubree found herself standing outside of Chibs’ home. It was a modest house, a two story colonial, on a quiet street. His Dyna was parked in the driveway. She lit a cigarette, electing to text him that she was there rather than ring the doorbell. A few minutes later, he joined her outside, a cigarette in hand. “You could have knocked, you know,” he noted, laughing.  
  
“It’s late. Didn’t want to disturb your neighbors or anything,” she offered, exhaling a plume of smoke. She took another drag, shivering involuntarily. In her rush, she’d forgotten to grab a jacket.  
  
“Come on in, lass,” Chibs noted, heading towards the door.  
  
Aubree followed, locking the door behind her. To her surprise, the house was relatively tidy, albeit sparsely decorated. It was apparent a bachelor lived here.  
  
“So this is where you live?” she asked, following him into the kitchen.  
  
“You sound surprised.”  
  
“I just always imagined you, I don’t know, living at the club or something. Are you even home, much?”  
  
Chibs shrugged. “I’ve been in the states well over a decade, lass. Figured I may as well have a place to get away from all that if I want.”  
  
“It’s cleaner than I expected,” she observed.  
  
“I’m too bloody old to live in squalor, lass,” he replied, shrugging.  
  
“It’s nice. I like it,” she told him, smiling lightly.  
  
“You want somethin’ to drink?”  
  
She glanced at the clock on the oven, considering. It was 2:40.  
  
“I’m alright… why don’t you show me your bedroom?” she asked, getting right to the point.  
  
Chibs raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.  
  
“I mean… you’ve been away on a run the past few days… I’m sure you wouldn’t be opposed to blowing off some steam… would you?” she asked, grinning.  
  
“Aye, you’re right,” he agreed. Nodding, he led her upstairs, to his bedroom.  
  
“I hope your bed is more comfortable than the one at the club,” she noted, ripping her dress off and tossing it to the floor.  
  
“Oh, it is,” Chibs assured her, arms snaking around her waist.  
  
“Missed you, lass,” he whispered, trailing kisses down her neck.  
  
Aubree bit her lip, leaning into his embrace. “Yeah?” she asked, reaching back to grab a fistful of his hair.  
  
He groaned pleasurably, hands roaming freely up and down her form. “I want you to fuck me,” she told him, bending over the edge of the mattress, offering him an outstanding view of her ass. “Show me how much you missed me.”  
  
“With pleasure.”

* * *

Aubree woke with a gasp, acutely aware that there was an arm thrown loosely around her waist. She squinted, struggling to read the time on the digital clock sitting on Chibs’ dresser. _4:30am. Fuck, I should go_. As carefully as she could manage, she moved Chibs’ arm off of her. As she made to slide out of bed, she felt a hand gripping her upper arm.  
  
“Stay,” Chibs mumbled ,his voice heavy with sleep.  
  
“Why?” Aubree asked, dumbfounded.  
  
“I wan’ you to. You ne’r stay the night. Jus’ stay.”  
  
Aubree bit her lips, eyes darting nervously from Chibs to the door. “Okay,” she acceded, climbing back into bed.  
  
“Good girl,” he told her, arms slinking around her waist, pulling her closer to him.  
  
Aubree lay there, pulse beating erratically, unnerved by this turn of events. She listened as Chibs’ breathing steadied, the gentle rise and fall of his chest soothing to her as he continued to hold her close to him, even in his sleep. _What am I doing here? I’m not… I’m not looking for something like this_.  
  
She had tried her damnedest to keep a lid on whatever feelings she was beginning to develop about the man lying beside her, and he was not following the agreed upon rules she’d set in her head. _This was supposed to be about sex. About mutual pleasure. Not… whatever the fuck this is._

* * *

“Aubree.”  
  
Aubree glanced up from the book she was reading, catching sight of Opie’s girl, Lyla, standing in her doorway. “What’s up?” she asked, glancing back down to her book.  
  
“Just thought I’d see how you’re settling in,” Lyla replied, entering the room, taking a seat in the chair at the dressing table.  
  
“I’ve been here almost two months, Lyla. I’d say I’m pretty settled,” Aubree retorted, shrugging.  
  
“What are you doing tonight?” Lyla asked, appearing nervous.  
  
“Nothing, why?”  
  
Lyla sighed. “I… I’m going out to have drinks with Jax’s old lady. Ope says I need to be nice, try and make friends with her. I didn’t make the best first impression on her, I guess. And since she’s the VP’s old lady, it’s important that I get along with her. You know how it is, hierarchy and all,” Lyla elaborated, frowning.  
  
“And you’re telling me this because…”  
  
“You’re smart. I have nothing in common with Tara, Aubree. She’s a fuckin’ doctor. She thinks I’m stupid white trash. I thought maybe if you came too…” she trailed off.  
  
“I don’t know if you realize this, Lyla, but I’m a porn star, too. Why don’t you bring Ima-”  
  
“Ima slept with Jax. Tara _hates_ her. Come on, Aubree, please? We’ll have a good time, I swear.”  
  
“Is there really even anywhere to _go out_ in Charming for drinks?”  
  
“I figured we could just go to the clubhouse.”  
  
Aubree nodded. “I’m not an old lady, though. Wouldn’t it be weird for me to just be… I don’t know, hanging around there? I’m not a crow eater or sweetbutt.”  
  
Lyla smiled at her, giving her a knowing look.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Well, you’re _seeing_ Chibs, aren’t you?” she asked.  
  
Aubree remained silent, considering how to respond.  
  
“Ope says he’s seen you leaving the clubhouse around 4am a bunch of times.”  
  
“Oh for _fuck’s_ sake,” Aubree swore, rolling her eyes. “So I’m fucking him. It’s just sex. I’m sure he’s fucking plenty of other snatch, too.”  
  
Lyla frowned, a single eyebrow raised. “I haven’t seen him with anyone else since you’ve been around.”  
  
“I find that hard to believe,” Aubree snorted, shaking her head.  
  
“He likes you. Is that really so hard to believe?” she asked.  
  
“Can we not talk about this?” Aubree asked, frowning.  
  
Lyla observed her, taking note of the agitation visible by the clenching of her jaw. She sighed, shaking her head.  
  
“So I’ll meet you at the clubhouse around 8?” she asked, smiling hopefully.  
  
“Yeah, sure, fine,” Aubree agreed, nodding. “I need to be on set in fifteen. Blocking a shoot for tomorrow.”  
  
“Okay,” Lila said agreeably, rising to her feet. “I’ll see you tonight. Thank you for agreeing to help me out with this.”

* * *

True to her word, Aubree arrived at the clubhouse, prepared to endure what she assumed would be an awkward couple of hours. She glanced around the parking lot; to her surprise, the lot was relatively empty. _The boys must be out on a run_. She sighed, tossing her hair up into a messy knot atop her head. She’d been tired after a long day on set, and had elected to dress down in a pair of leggings and a tank top, an old battered leather bomber jacket and black flats completing her ensemble. Taking a breath for courage, she entered the clubhouse, immediately catching sight of Lyla and Tara at the bar, a prospect serving them drinks. With practiced poise, she strode toward the pair, taking a seat beside Lyla. “Hey,” she offered, as way of greeting, nodding at the blonde and brunette.  
  
“Hey Aub,” Lyla replied, offering her a grateful smile. “Thanks for joining us.” “This is Aubree, she works with me at Cara Cara,” Lyla offered, addressing Tara. “Aub, this is Tara, Jax’s old lady.”  
  
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Knowles,” Aubree replied, offering Tara her hand and the winning smile that had helped her sway juries back in her old life.  
  
“How’d you know I’m a doctor?” she asked, taken aback, but grinning all the same.  
  
Aubree shrugged. “I like to read up on people a little before I meet them. An old habit from my prior line of work.”  
  
“Aubree’s a lawyer,” Lyla chimed in.  
  
“Well, I used to be,” Aubree retorted, sighing heavily. “Hey Sack, you wanna get me a drink?” she called out, getting the prospect’s attention.  
  
“Where’d you go to school, Aubree?” Tara asked, sounding surprisingly intrigued.  
  
“Did undergrad and law school at Berkeley,” Aubree replied.  
  
“Wow. That’s impressive,” Tara told her, smiling. “I got wait-listed at Berkeley.”  
  
“Where’d you go to school? I think I remember Jax saying you were in Chicago for a while.”  
  
“I went to med school out there, but I did undergrad at UC San Diego. It was nice down there. Southern California is beautiful.”  
  
“I liked going to San Diego when I was living down there. Much nicer than the concrete jungle that is LA.”  
  
The three women watched as the boys entered the building, nodding in acknowledgment. Opie and Jax approached the three, greeting their respective partners with kisses.  
  
“Nice to see you girls spending time together,” Jax noted, nodding approvingly.  
  
“Aubree is smart. You’ll like her, Tar,” Jax told the brunette, offering Aubree a warm smile.  
  
Aubree smiled politely, her gaze wandering the room in search of a familiar face. _There he is_. Across the room, Chibs was seated in a small booth with Juice and Bobby, a glass of scotch in hand. She watched him watching her, slowly reaching for her drink. She drained the contents, feeling the heat of his gaze fixed on her. She slammed the glass down, grinning triumphantly. “Another one, Sack? Thanks.”  
  
“Did Lyla sucker you into coming out here?” Tara asked her, drawing her attention away from the Scot.  
  
She shrugged. “Nah. I’m glad she asked me to come, honestly. I need to get out of my head some. Socialization is probably exactly what I need,” she retorted, offering Lyla, who’d remained relatively quiet since she’d arrived, a grateful smile.  
  
“I thought you two would get on well, being so smart and all,” she replied shyly, shrugging. She rose to her feet, grabbing her purse. “You two won’t mind if I go see Ope for a second, would you?”  
  
The two shook their heads, watching as she scuttled off toward her man.  
  
“Is it weird, being a part of all this?” Aubree asked, gesturing around them.  
  
Tara shrugged. “Club life is all Jax has ever known. I couldn’t ask him to give it up for me.”  
  
“You know what I mean. The doctor and MC vice president? Isn’t it weird?”  
  
Tara sighed. “It’s… different, that’s for sure. People around here don’t quite know what to make of us, the doctor and the outlaw.”  
  
Aubree nodded in understanding. “Yeah. I’ve been there,” she confided, taking a sip of her drink.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah. It’s weird, like you’re living a double life. Upstanding citizen by day, bad girl by night. It was great, until it wasn’t, anymore.”  
  
“Can I ask you something?” Tara asked, a hint of hesitation on her face.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You seem like a bright girl. Fuck, you’re a lawyer. Why would you give that up to be in porn?”  
  
“Do you think I went back to Cara Cara by choice?” Aubree asked dryly, motioning for Sack to bring her another drink.  
  
“Well, you said you used to be a lawyer, so I assumed-”  
  
“Yeah. I _used_ to be because I’m not anymore.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“That double life of mine came crumbling down on me,” she muttered bitterly, blinking rapidly, to quell the tears that were forming in her eyes.  
  
Tara observed her silently, a troubled expression on her face.  
  
“Turns out, tampering evidence for your dealer boyfriend will get you disbarred,” Aubree continued, shaking her head.  
  
“Shit,” Tara replied, frowning. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
Aubree shook her head, rubbing her eyes furiously. She was way too sober to be having this conversation.  
  
“Yeah, so am I.”  
  
She reached for the drink in front of her, taking a deep sip. To her relief, Lyla returned, eyeing the two worriedly. “Everything okay?” she asked, concerned with the somber tone that had settled at their corner of the bar.  
  
“Yeah, just sharing my tragic back story with the good doctor, here,” Aubree laughed, gripping her glass tighter.  
  
“You go and get a little lovin’ from your man, Ly?” she asked, attempting to redirect the conversation to something less depressing.  
  
Lyla laughed, motioning for the prospect to refresh her drink. “Maybe,” she smirked, taking a sip from her freshened glass.  
  
Tara smirked, shaking her head. “Nothing like a quick fuck in the bathroom of the clubhouse, eh, Lyla?” she asked.  
  
“Really?” Aubree asked, taken aback by Tara’s statement. “You’ve done that?”  
  
Tara nodded coolly. “Sometimes you have to make a point,” she noted, taking a sip of her own drink. “Make it clear to the _crow eaters_ and whoever else skulking around that your man is spoken for.”  
  
Lyla nodded in agreement. “You’ve got to mark your territory around here,” she added.  
  
Aubree nodded, distracted by the trio of crow eaters that she saw approaching Chibs and Juice. Her jaw clenched, involuntarily. She reached for her drink, taking another sip and slamming it down.  
  
She half-listened to Tara and Lyla’s conversation about club life, going on about some family dinner that Gemma would be hosting in two weeks, continuing to watch the scene unfolding across the bar. She finished her drink, lips pressed tightly together as she observed a particularly skanky looking crow eater leaning close into Chibs, throwing an arm over his shoulders as she whispered something in his ear. Eyes narrowed to slits, she waved Half Sack over, asking for another drink, a double.  
  
“If looks could kill,” she heard Lyla stage whisper, giggling.  
  
Aubree gripped her glass tighter, willing herself to exude a calmness she didn’t feel. _It’s not a big deal. You knew he was bound to be fucking other girls. Why wouldn’t he? Free pussy is free pussy._  
  
“So,” Tara started, grinning at her, “you and Chibs?”  
  
Aubree licked her lips, nodding in agreement, seeing no point in denial at this point. “Yeah. We’ve been screwing around, some.”  
  
She turned her gaze back to Chibs, who appeared to be ignoring the girl, carrying on a conversation with Juice and Bobby, glass of scotch in hand. He glanced in her direction at the bar, an eyebrow raised, silently questioning her. She stared back, mimicking his facial expression, raising her glass to her lips, draining the glass once more. “Another one, Sack. Please,” she said politely, offering the boy her signature syrupy-sweet smile.  
  
“Maybe you should go mark your territory,” Tara said lowly, nodding toward him.  
  
“It’s not like that. We’re just… fucking,” Aubree shrugged, running her fingers her hair, a nervous tic she’d never quite gotten rid of.  
  
“Uh-huh,” Tara retorted, sarcastically.  
  
“He’s not looking for anything more from me than what I’m giving,” she continued, watching as the crow eater made another oblivious pass at him. _Fuck that cunt_ , she thought to herself, her pulse quickening in anger.  
  
She frowned as Tara and Lyla exchanged disbelieving looks. “Is it so hard to believe that I’m not looking for anything more than a good hard fuck?”  
  
“If that were the case, honey, you wouldn’t be all wound up, watching him over there with those girls,” Lyla said gently, offering her a sympathetic smile.  
  
She rolled her eyes. “So maybe I’m a tad possessive of my playthings,” she conceded, frowning.  
  
Lyla grinned, exchanging a victorious look with Tara. “Sure, sure, whatever you say, darlin’. He’s your _plaything_. Like Tara said, you’ve got to make it clear that he’s spoken for.”  
  
Aubree nodded, relenting. “You really think I should?”  
  
“I think he’ll like it,” Lyla replied, smirking.  
  
Aubree rolled her eyes. “That’s hardly the point, Ly.”  
  
Still, she rose to her feet, drink in hand. She chugged it down, slamming the glass down loudly. _Liquid courage_ , she told herself, looking from Lyla to Tara expectantly.  
  
_Go_ , the pair whispered, grinning wildly.

* * *

Aubree rolled her eyes, forcing down the pang of nervousness that had begun to stir in her stomach. _You can do this_. Head held high, she strode slowly toward the table Chibs was seated at, lips curled into a half-smirk, not caring that she’d drawn the attention of several club members in the room.  
  
“Hey,” she greeted the occupants of the table, nodding at Bobby and Juice before turning her attention to Chibs. Palms splayed on the table, she leaned forward, giving him a view of her bra-less 32B’s, knowing full-well that her pierced nipples were on display. “Got a minute?” she asked coolly, right eyebrow raised, to punctuate her question.  
  
She smirked, catching sight of Bobby and Juice exchanging pointed looks from the corner of her eye.  
  
“Aye, of course,” Chibs agreed, nodding.  
  
“It’ll just take a sec,” she told the furious looking crow eater beside him, shooting her an icy glare.  
  
Chibs rose to his feet, shoving the crow eater out of his way to slide out of the booth. Aubree grabbed his abandoned glass, taking a sip. “Thanks,” she said sweetly, handing him it back.  
  
“What’s on your mind, lass?” he asked, eyeing her curiously as she casually draped her arms around his neck, instinctively putting his own around her waist.  
  
“Just wondering when you were planning on coming round to say hello… Leaving a girl waiting at the bar, like that… could give her a complex, dontcha think?” she asked coyly, licking a long stripe down his neck.  
  
She felt Chibs exhale sharply, hands gripping tighter at her waist. “Ah. Is that why you were starin’ me down from across the bar?”  
  
“I’m not used to not getting my way, Chibby,” she retorted, leaning closer into him. “And I think you enjoy giving me my way… don’t you?”  
  
“Aye,” he agreed, nodding. “You’re somethae else, lass.”  
  
She pulled him closer, hungrily kissing him, teeth clinging to his lower lip. She grinned as she caught sight of the blonde crow eater watching them, positively seething with rage. _Good. Fuck her_.  
  
She drew away, licking her lips. “Guess I should get back to the girls… when you’re ready, come find me, okay?” she asked, smirking.  
  
“Aye,” he agreed.  
  
She grabbed his hand, tugging him back towards the table, where Juice and Bobby remained. “Thanks,” she grinned, shooting Chibs an appreciative look, “I’ll leave you boys to it, then,” she offered the blonde another cold look before slinking away, back to the bar.  
  
“You happy now?” she asked, taking a seat beside Lyla, motioning for the prospect to bring her another drink.  
  
“That was… something else,” Lyla replied, shaking her head in bemusement.  
  
“Yeah… you definitely got your point across, if those glares are any indication,” Tara agreed, nodding towards the crow eaters seated with Chibs.  
  
Aubree smirked, vindicated. “I suppose you two were right. You have to mark your territory.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what I'm doing with this. It's just a relief to be writing anything other than the same stupid fics I've been writing for the past few years.

Bobby shook his head, laughing. “She that aggressive in the sack, Chibby?” he asked.  
  
Chibs smirked, taking a sip of his drink.  
  
“That was somethin’ else, man. I thought she was going to rip Ella’s throat out, the way she was glaring at her,” Juice added, grinning.  
  
“She’s a lively one, she is,” Chibs agreed.  
  
“You’re pretty into her, huh?” Juice asked.  
  
“Wha’ makes you say that, Juicy?”  
  
Juice shrugged. “You’ve been watching her all night. Practically shoved Ella off of you, who was all but begging to suck your dick.”  
  
Chibs shrugged. “Why settle for hamburger when you can have steak?”  
  
Bobby chuckled. “He has a point, brother.”  
  
“I don’t know how you do it, man. How’d you manage to snatch the hottest chick at Cara Cara?” Juice whined.  
  
“Because he isn’t a slightly retarded child like you, Juicy,” Bobby laughed. “Years of experience.”  
  
“Hey!” Juice protested, making a face.  
  
“Eh, he has a point Juicy Boy. Ye act like ye’ve never spoken to a woman before in your life, the way you interact with the girls round here,” Chibs pointed out, laughing.  
  
“She’d make a good old lady, eh, Chibby?” Juice asked, nodding towards the redhead.  
  
Chibs observed her, watching her watching him from across the bar. “Aye, she might,” he agreed, taking a sip from his drink.  
  
“Really?” Bobby asked, eyebrow raised.  
  
“Ye never know, brother. Just agreeing with Juicy Boy. She’d make a decent ol’ lady to someone,” he retorted, a faint smile on his lips. 

* * *

Aubree woke to the feeling of warm skin against her. “Hey,” she mumbled, untangling her limbs from Chibs, who was laying beside her, observing her.  
  
“Mornin’,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her neck, tongue licking her collarbone gently.  
  
She froze. “What are you doing?”  
  
He laughed, nuzzling her neck, pressing soft kisses down her chest. “Thought we might have a nice lazy shag to start our morning,” he chuckled, trailing lower down her stomach.  
  
“Don’t,” she said stoically, gripping him tightly by the shoulder.  
  
“I don’t mind, lass. I’d love to get a taste of that lovely cunt of yours.”  
  
She froze, lips curling into a look of displeasure. “Don’t. stop it. I don’t like that.” She shifted away from him, wrapping herself in the sheet.  
  
Chibs stared at her, unsure of how to respond.  
  
“I should go,” she said lowly, tossing her legs over the edge of the bed.  
  
“What’s the matter? You seemed game last night, lass,” Chibs retorted, frowning.  
  
“I wanted to get fucked raw. Not whatever this is,” she snapped, gesturing toward him. “I don’t need you to play nice and try to make me feel special. I may be a porn star but I’m not stupid.”  
  
“What’re you going on about? I _want_ to do this. If I didnae want you here I’d ‘ave sent you packing once we were done las’ night.”  
  
“Well I don’t like _that_. Come on,” she started, crawling back into bed with him. “You want to fuck me, right?” she asked, grabbing his hands, wrapping them around her throat. “Not lookin’ to play rough, Aubree. It’s too early for tha’. Come on,” he retorted, removing his hands from her neck. “Let me take care of ya.”  
  
“Maybe that’s not what I want, Filip,” she snapped, scowling. “I’m not lookin’ to be handled gently. Either fuck me hard, or I’m leaving.”  
  
Chibs frowned, observing her curiously. “So let me get this straight,” he started, shaking his head. “You don’t like being touched like this,” he paused, slowly caressing her side, fingertips gentle against her skin. “Or this,” he pulled her towards him, kissing her slowly, a far cry from their usual rough passionate kisses. “But you like to be choked and tossed around. Is that right?” he asked.  
  
“I like what I like,” she said coldly, folding her arms across her chest.  
  
“You’re not comfortable with intimacy,” he said knowingly, dark brown eyes piercing into her green ones.  
  
Aubree snorted. “I’m a porn star. I’d say I’m more than comfortable with _intimacy_ , Chibs. I take it up the ass for a living, asshole.”  
  
“You’re comfortable getting fucked. There’s a world of difference between getting fucked and being intimate. There’s nothing intimate about taking a stiff cock up the arse or getting choked until you’re blue in the face, lass.”  
  
Aubree rolled her eyes, avoiding his gaze. “Whatever,” she muttered.  
  
“What happened that you can’t stand to have someone touch you gently?” he asked, his tone gentler.  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she huffed, pulling away. “It’s none of your fucking business. I don’t like it, just leave it at that.”  
  
“What exactly were you looking for from me, Aubree? Someone to knock you around, put you in your place? Is that what you like?” Chibs asked, frowning.  
  
“Maybe it is,” she retorted, chin raised defiantly. “I’m not a china doll. I don’t need to be treated gently.”  
  
“I’m not going to hurt you, save that shite for the porn set.”  
  
Aubree glared at him, pulse quickening in anger. “Not man enough to put a woman in her place, is that it? I thought all you lousy drunk Celts loved showing a woman her place-”  
  
“I’m man enough to know better than to raise my hand to a woman, little girl,” he interrupted, lips pressed into a grim line. He shook his head, looking at her with a mixture of sadness and pity. “Someone really did a number on your head, sweetheart. Got you all mixed up if you think that’s the way a man should treat ye.”  
  
“Why the fuck do you care, anyway? You got yours. I already told you I don’t care so what does it matter? I’m a tight hole to fuck, isn’t that enough?”  
  
“You’re a sick little girl, you know that, love?”  
  
“What the fuck did you think this was, Chibs? Do I look like every other dumb twat that throws themselves at your feet? What did you expect? For me to beg you to make me your old lady? I don’t want that! I just wanted to get out of my head for five fucking minutes. What’s so hard to understand about that?” she screamed, clambering out of bed.  
  
“Lass, wait a minute-”  
  
“Jesus fucking Christ, leave me alone,” she snapped, grabbing her clothes from off the floor.  
  
Furiously, she redressed, anger flushing her cheeks. “I’ve got to go to work. I guess you’re right. I better save my shit for the porn studio since you can’t give me what I need.”  
  
“Aubree,” he said slowly, like he was speaking to a spooked animal. “I’m sorry, okay? I didnae know. I won’t press if you don’t want to talk about it, okay?”  
  
She nodded, her face void of expression. “Okay,” she agreed, avoiding his gaze.  
  
“You alright?” he asked, concerned by the abrupt change in her demeanor.  
  
“Yeah,” she nodded, eyes still avoiding meeting his. “I’ll uh, see you around, I guess.”  
  
With shaking hands, Aubree grabbed her purse from the floor, quietly shutting the door behind her. Ignoring the strange looks the brothers gathered at the bar were shooting her, she strode towards the door, forcing herself to keep her head held high. Once in the safety of her car, she let her mask fall, sobbing quietly into her hands, tears rolling down her cheeks.

* * *

Aubree stared at her reflection in the mirror, dazed. She wiped at her nose, removing the residue from the Xanax she’d just snorted. _Probably took too much xanax_ , she observed, sighing contently. She’d popped two pills before leaving the clubhouse, once her tears had subsided enough that she could see straight. She’d snorted two more upon arrival, knowing that she would need to be numb if she wanted to get through the scenes she was shooting that day. Then she’d snorted some more, because _why not_? She grabbed her phone from her purse, unable to resist her curiosity. Nothing. She’d expected, hoped, really, that he would have texted her, called her, anything, after her little outburst earlier. “Figures,” she muttered, propping her head up with her left hand, resuming gazing at her own reflection.  
  
She was still dressed in the leather corset she’d worn for that morning’s bondage shoot. She’d meant to get changed after, but hadn’t bothered, electing to brood before the mirror, instead. She grimaced, feeling the boning of the corset digging into her. _Really should get changed_ , she thought miserably. She began digging through her drawers, in search of her bottle of vicodin. Her ribs were killing her, how had she not realized how painful that corset was? She uncapped the bottle, chasing a handful down with a swig from the bottle of vodka on her dressing table. _That should help_.  
  
She rested her head against the table for a moment, waiting for the pills to give their desired effect.  
  
Sighing, she rose to her feet, struggling with the ties in the back. “Fuck,” she swore, swaying slightly, her balance a bit off.  
  
“Hey,” a voice called out, grabbing her attention.  
  
“Juice,” Aubree replied, surprised by his presence.  
  
“Need a hand?” he asked, offering her a small grin.  
  
“Yeah.. that’d be great, thanks,” she agreed, nodding.  
  
Juice nodded, setting to work loosening the ties of her corset. Aubree breathed a sigh of relief, inhaling deeply. “Thanks,” she told him, pulling the corset off, slipping one of her silk robes over her shoulders.  
  
“What brings you round here, Juicy?” she asked, sitting back down at her dressing table.  
  
Juice nodded, folding his arms across his chest. “Are… you okay?” he asked.  
  
She inhaled deeply, considering her words. “Yeah, I’m good. Why?”  
  
Juice frowned. “I kind of saw you crying in your car this morning. At the clubhouse.”  
  
Aubree stared at him, careful to keep her expression neutral. “It was nothing.” She slumped forward over her dressing table, hanging her head down.  
  
“Jesus, what are you on?” Juice asked, lips curled into an expression of concern.  
  
“Hmm?” she asked, turning to look at him.  
  
“You look like you’re about to pass out. What are you fucked up on?”  
  
Aubree shrugged. “Xanax. Some Vicodin. The usual.”  
  
“You took them together?” he asked, brows knit in concern.  
  
“It’s fine, Juice, relax. I’ll sleep good tonight,” she retorted, nonplussed.  
  
“Yeah, if you make it home in one piece,” he snapped, shaking his head.  
  
“Does Luann know you’re all fucked up?”  
  
Aubree rolled her eyes. “I’m a porn star, Juice. Everyone does this. Christ, at least I’m not shooting up heroin like some of these whores,” she scoffed.  
  
Juice nodded, glancing nervously around the room. “You done for the day?” he asked.  
  
Aubree nodded. “Yeah. Why?”  
  
“I’m taking you home, then. Come on, grab your shit, let’s go,” he ordered, nodding at her expectantly.  
  
“I’m not a child, Juice. I can drive myself home.”  
  
“The hell you are. Come on. Move. I’ll drive you home. I can get a ride back from you place from one of the boys.”  
  
Aubree sighed, remaining seated in her chair. “You’re being such a drag,” she complained.  
  
“Chibs would kill me if I let you drive yourself. Let’s get a move on, before you pass out.”  
  
Aubree froze, lips pursing together at the mention of Chibs. “Okay,” she agreed, rising to her feet, swaying slightly.  
  
Juice stepped in, offering her an arm to lean against. “Guess I took a little too much,” she observed, laughing lowly. “Fuck.”  
  
Juice assisted her in getting changed, helping her into a loose fitting dress and her coat. She slipped into her flats, grabbing her purse and phone. “You got your keys?” he asked, holding out his right hand.  
  
She nodded, rummaging through her bag. “Here,” she mumbled, leaning on the dressing table to support herself.  
  
“Jesus Christ,” Juice mumbled, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Here, let’s get you home,” he told her, allowing the girl to lean on him for support as he led her down the hall, toward the exit.  
  
Aubree sighed lowly, resting her head on Juice’s shoulder. Juice shook his head, silently praying they would make it to the lot without running into anyone. “Juice?” she asked, her voice soft.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Don’t tell him about this, please?” she begged, sniffing back tears. “I don’t want him to know.”  
  
“Everything alright, brother?”

* * *

Juice froze. _Fuck_. “Hey Ope,” he said, nodding at the taller man.  
  
Opie looked from Aubree, head still resting on his shoulder, to Juice, then back again. He stared at Juice, giving him a pointed look.  
  
“She’s all fucked up on pills,” he offered, shooting him a desperate look. “I’m just taking her home. I wasn’t about to let her drive herself.”  
  
“Looks like she’s barely conscious. What’d she take?” Opie asked, eyeing her worriedly.  
  
“Zans and vicodin. She was probably drinking, too. She had a bottle of vodka open in her dressing room. Don’t know how much she took,” he replied, beginning to feel anxious.  
  
“We can’t just leave her alone, Juice.”  
  
Juice sighed. “I know. Shit. Should I get Luann? She’s staying with her, right?”  
  
“I doubt she wants her boss knowing she’s getting fucked up enough to pass out on the clock,” Opie retorted, brows furrowed. “Did you call Chibs?”  
  
“I-”  
  
“The fuck is wrong with her?” Jax interrupted, striding toward the two men.  
  
“Took too many pills, it appears,” Opie replied, lips pressed firmly together.  
  
“Shit,” Jax swore, frowning. “You think she OD’d?”  
  
Juice shook his head. “Nah. I don’t think so. Her pulse seems fine, breathing’s normal. She mixed opiates with benzos… probably just knocked her out.”  
  
“Does Chibs know?” Jax asked.  
  
Juice shook his head no. “She doesn’t want him to know,” he explained, shrugging.  
  
“What, did they have a fight or something?” Opie asked, frowning.  
  
Juice shrugged. “Something happened. I saw her crying in her car this morning, at the club.”  
  
“That would explain the _fantastic_ mood he was in this morning,” Jax noted, shaking his head.  
  
Juice watched as the two exchanged silent looks, apparently debating how to proceed. “He’s probably black out drunk, anyway. Take her to Luann’s. I’ll call Tara, send her over to take a look at her,” Jax said finally, sighing.  
  
Juice nodded. Okay. Got it.”

* * *

Gemma approached Chibs, who was sitting alone at the bar. “Hey,” she greeted him, taking a seat beside him. She grabbed the bottle of scotch in front of him, pouring herself a glass. “So,” she started, observing him carefully, “you and Aubree.”  
  
Chibs’ right eyebrow raised, but he said nothing, instead reaching for his glass, swirling the contents before taking a sip.  
  
“Everything alright with you two?” Gemma asked, bringing her own glass to her lips.  
  
Chibs shrugged. “Yeah, sure,” he retorted, sighing. “Why do you ask?”  
  
“Juice said he saw her crying in the parking lot this morning,” Gemma noted, a look of concern etched on her face. “Everything alright, baby?”  
  
Chibs looked up at her, taken aback by her statement. “He didn’t mention that to me,” he grumbled, reaching for his glass.  
  
“Yeah. He also said you were drunk by ten in the morning. Didn’t want an angry Scot swinging at him for bringing it up,” Gemma replied evenly.  
  
Chibs rolled his eyes, said nothing.  
  
“You have a fight?”  
  
“Nah, just got a few things clear between us, I suppose,” he replied, hating the bitterness in his tone.  
  
“She’d make a good old lady,” Gemma stated, smiling.  
  
“I don’t think that’s what she’s looking for, Gem,” Chibs replied, staring down into his drink.  
  
The two sat in silence for several minutes, interrupted by the ringing on Gemma’s cell phone. “Jackson. What’s wrong, baby?”  
  
Gemma frowned, rising to her feet. “No, I don’t know where Tara is. Did you try calling the hospital?”  
  
Chibs observed, watching Gemma begin to pace the room. “Why, what’s so urgent, Jax?”  
  
Gemma stopped, biting her lip. “Shit.”  
  
She resumed pacing, her back turned to Chibs. “Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll try and get a hold of her. I will. No problem.”  
  
“What was that about?” Chibs asked, eyeing Gemma curiously.  
  
“Nothing,” Gemma retorted, a bit too quickly.  
  
“Didn’t sound like nothing, Gem. Why’s Jackie Boy looking for Tara? Something happen?”  
  
Gemma shook her head, taking a cigarette from the pack lying on the bar. She lit up, inhaling deeply. “Just something up at the studio. Jax is handling it, no big deal.”  
  
“Something happen with one of the girls?” he asked, thoughts turning to Aubree.  
  
“Nothing major,” Gemma replied coolly, avoiding making eye contact.  
  
“Why don’t you tell me the truth, Gem?” Chibs said lowly, frowning.  
  
Gemma sighed, staring down at the ground. She took another drag off her cigarette.  
  
“Well?” Chibs asked, shooting her a pointed look.  
  
“Your girl, Aubree. She uh, took a few too many pills or something. Passed out.”  
  
Chibs turned back to his drink, reaching for the glass. “Shite.”  
  
“This have anything to do with your fight this morning?” Gemma asked, joining him back at the bar.  
  
“Fuck if I know,” Chibs muttered, running his hands through his graying locks. “She okay?”  
  
Gemma nodded. “Yeah. Juice is taking her back to Luann’s. She’ll be fine, sweetheart.”  
  
Chibs rose to his feet. “Guess I’ll head over there,” he noted, wiping his hands on his jeans.  
  
Gemma cleared her throat. “Jax asked me not to tell you… he’s gonna call you, fill you in on everything once Tara takes a look at her.”  
  
“Aye,” he sighed, reaching for his half-filled glass of scotch. “Alright then.”


	6. Chapter 6

“I took a look at her, she should be fine,” Tara said, joining Jax, Opie, and Juice in the living room.  
  
Jax nodded. “Good.”  
  
“Does Chibs know?” she asked.  
  
The three men exchanged looks. “She asked Juice not to tell him,” Opie replied, nodding towards the younger man.  
  
Juice sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know what’s going on. I saw her crying in her car this morning at the club. I guess they had a fight or something.”  
  
“You think she did this on purpose?” Jax asked, looking to Tara.  
  
Tara shook her head. “Nah, I don’t think so. Obviously, it’s unwise to mix benzos and opiates, but she didn’t overdose. The combination of the two over-sedated her, is all.”  
  
Jax nodded. “That’s good,” he said, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “Fuck.”  
  
“What?” Juice asked, eyeing him warily.  
  
“Chibs knows. My mother told him.”  
  
“Damn it,” Juice muttered, shaking his head.  
  
"Someone should go talk to him, let him know she’s alright,” Tara said, nodding. “I’ll stay here with her, make sure nothing changes.”  
  
“You just said she was going to be fine, though,” Juice said, uneasy.  
  
Tara nodded. “I figure she’ll want to know how she got home. I’d also like to ask her a few questions, just to make sure this wasn’t anything more than an accident.”  
  
Juice nodded, glancing at Jax. “I guess we should go talk to him,” he started, rising to his feet.

* * *

“Chibs.”  
  
“She alright?” the Scot asked, head resting on the bar.  
  
“Yeah. She’s fine,” Jax affirmed, taking a seat beside him, Juice sitting on his other side.  
  
“Good,” Chibs nodded.  
  
It appeared he had given up with a glass altogether, taking swigs directly from the bottle instead.  
  
“Ye didn’t tell me she was cryin’ in her car this morning, lad,” Chibs noted, addressing Juice.  
  
“Chibs, I…” Juice trailed off, glancing helplessly at Jax.  
  
“Why don’t you fill him in on what’s going on, Juice. I’m gonna give Tara a call, see if there’s any news,” Jax announced, rising to his feet. “I’ll be in the office,” he told the two.  
  
Once Jax had exited the building, Chibs turned to Juice, looking at him expectantly. “Ye want to tell me what’s been going on, lad?” he asked.  
  
Juice nodded, cringing at the sad look on his face. “I was coming in this morning and I kind of saw her just… crying in her car. I was going to mention it to you but… you kind of hit the bottle early and didn’t seem too keen to talk,” he began, rapping his fingers anxiously on the bar.  
  
Chibs nodded, reaching for the bottle. “And then what?”  
  
“I um, stopped by Cara Cara. I had some paperwork Clay wanted me to give to Bobby, but I also wanted to check on her. She seemed so sad, I just… thought maybe someone should make sure she was okay. She was really crying hard this morning,” Juice continued, his hands fidgeting as he spoke.  
  
“She say anything to you?”  
  
Juice shook his head. “Nah. She was pretty out of it when I stopped in. I asked her if she was okay and she said she was fine.”  
  
“Did you tell her you saw her?”  
  
Juice nodded. “Yeah. She showed no emotion at all, just said that it was nothing. Then whatever she took started hitting her, I guess.”  
  
“The fuck did she take, lad?”  
  
“She said xanax and vicodin. She was probably drinking, too. She was pretty out of it. I was more or less holding her upright when I tried getting her out of there.”  
  
Chibs glared at him. “Care to elaborate?”  
  
“She was obviously fucked up on something, Chibby. I wasn’t about to leave her there to drive herself home or pass out in her dressing room. I know you care for her. So I told her to get her shit together and I’d drive her home. We ran into Opie in the hall. And Jax. They saw she was passed out on my shoulder so, obviously they had questions.”  
  
“Why didn’t you call me?” Chibs asked, lips drawn tightly together.  
  
“She asked me not to. I guess she didn’t want you to see her like that… or something.”  
  
He nodded, reaching for the bottle, taking a long swig.  
  
“What happened this morning? Did you guys have a fight or something?”  
  
Chibs shook his head, taking another drink from the bottle.  
  
“I pushed her too hard, asking questions about her past, I s’pose,” he said finally, shaking his head.  
  
Juice shot him a quizzical look.  
  
“Have you ever come across a girl who didn’t like to be touched, Juicy Boy?”  
  
“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning.  
  
“This stays between us, lad. You hear me?”  
  
“Yeah, of course, man. Of course.”  
  
“I tried to go down on her and she got really upset. She said some shite… she’s got issues with intimacy I think, doesn’t like being touched gently, though she won’t admit it. Just wants me to fuck her hard and choke her out, she said,” Chibs started, reaching for the bottle.  
  
Juice remained silent, waiting for him to continue.  
  
Chibs shook his head, taking another long swig. “Someone really fucked that girl up. How could a lass that beautiful have a problem with being treated gently? A girl like her should be treasured.”  
  
“She didn’t want to talk about it, I guess.”  
  
“Aye. She didn’t want to talk about it. Said it wasn’t my business, that she had no interest in anything from me beyond a good hard shag.”  
  
“I don’t think she meant that, Chibby.”  
  
“She got really quiet, after. Totally shut down before she left. I told her I was sorry, that I wouldn’t meddle in her affairs.”  
  
“Probably had a panic attack. That’d explain all the xanax she took,” Juice replied, shrugging.  
  
“I’d like to know who the bastard was who messed her head up like that. She said some shite Juicy, I wanted to rip him apart, whoever put those thoughts in her head.”  
  
“What was she saying?”  
  
Chibs stared ahead, considering his words. He cleared his throat “She asked me if I wasn’t man enough to put a woman in ‘er place.”  
  
Juice’s eyebrows rose, taken aback by Chibs’ words. “Jesus.”  
  
“You know what that means,” he continued, shaking his head.  
  
Chibs turned to look at him, waiting for him to continue.  
  
“She was abused. That much is obvious. You don’t say shit like that unless you’re used to someone beating the shit out of you all the time,” Juice elaborated, shaking his head sadly.  
  
Chibs nodded tersely, reaching for the bottle. “What am I supposed to do, Juicy Boy?”  
  
“I dunno, man. You really like her, don’t you?”  
  
“Aye.”  
  
“Just… give her time. She’s not ready to tell you about her past, yet. Just… respect her boundaries, I guess. That’s fucked, though. Jeez. Was it just the going down part or?”  
  
“She cringed when I touched her gently. Like it was unbearable for her. Ne’r seen anything like it, Juicy.”  
  
“I didnae mean to upset her like that, I just… I was trying to show her I could take good care of her, treat her the way a lass like her deserves.”  
  
“Tara doesn’t think she did it on purpose, Chibs. She was probably just looking to escape for a little while.”  
  
“Ye gonna let me go see her?”  
  
“Tara wants to wait for her to wake up, wants to ask her a few questions, see where her head’s at. We can go check in on her tomorrow, okay?”

* * *

Aubree woke to her head pounding and her mouth bone dry. She emitted a low groan, squeezing her eyes shut. “Fuck,” she muttered, curling up on her side.  
  
“Hey, you’re awake.”  
  
Aubree opened her eyes, struggling to focus her vision. To her surprise, she found Tara seated beside her, carefully observing. “What’s going on?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.  
  
“You’re at home, back at Luann’s,” Tara told her, her voice soothing. She handed her a bottle of water, which Aubree readily accepted. “Do you remember anything about yesterday?”  
  
“What time is it?”  
  
“It’s about two in the morning,” Tara replied. “Do you remember anything, Aubree?”  
  
“I guess the xanax and vicodin didn’t mix well,” she muttered, closing her eyes once more.  
  
“Yeah. You passed out. Juice brought you home.”  
  
“Does Chibs know?”  
  
Tara nodded. “Yeah. The guys went and let him know you’re okay.”  
  
“Shit.”  
  
“Everything okay with you two?” Tara asked.  
  
Aubree nodded. “He just pried a little too much into my personal business. We’re good. I overreacted when I left the club this morning.”  
  
Tara nodded. “You know I have to ask-”  
  
“I didn’t try to kill myself or anything, Tara,” she interrupted. “He brought up some old shit. It shook me up a little bit. Between that and being in pain from this fucking corset… I overdid it. I just wanted to get out of my head a little.”  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
Aubree stared ahead, lips pursed together. “Not really.”  
  
“It stays between us. It might be a relief, just saying it to someone else.”  
  
Aubree sighed, lowering her head. “I don’t like being touched,” she said softly, voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Tara remained silent, nodding for her to continue.  
  
“He was being so gentle and it just… I don’t like it. It’s terrifying. It reminds me of…” she trailed off, choking back a sob.  
  
“Chris… he used to… he’d be gentle, touch me really softly, trying to catch me off guard before he… it’s so stupid…” she continued, shaking her head.  
  
“I always knew what was coming when he was like that, you know? Was always just waiting for it.”  
  
“Waiting for what?”  
  
“Do you have any idea what it’s like? To have the man you love, so gentle one minute, the next he’s punching you in the face, grabbing you by the throat and holding you down?”  
  
Tara observed her, at a loss for words. “Aubree… I had no idea.”  
  
“How long did he…”  
  
“Basically the entire time we were together. Nine years? He wasn’t the first. I guess I’m a magnet for assholes. Jesus, I probably have ’damaged goods’ tattooed across my forehead,” she continued, shaking her head. “That’s why I can’t… I’m not there, yet. Sex is one thing. I know what to expect there. If you’ve got your hands around my throat while you’re railing me out, at least I know where we both stand. But the way he was touching me, so carefully, like I was something special… I can’t handle that, Tara. I don’t know how.”  
  
“You were trying to protect yourself. Keep yourself safe.”  
  
Aubree nodded. “Yeah.”  
  
“You could tell him, you know. He’s a decent man. He’d understand.”  
  
Aubree shook her head. “I can’t. Not now. I’m not there yet. I don’t want him to think I’m weak. A victim. I need to feel in control. I won’t be if I let him see this side of me.”  
  
“Are you seeing anyone?”  
  
“Therapy is bullshit,” Aubree retorted. “No offense.”  
  
“You’re not a victim, Aubree.”  
  
The redhead nodded. “Thanks.”

* * *

Chibs awkwardly knocked on Luann’s front door, beginning to wish he’d called first.  
  
Tara answered the door, offering him a warm smile. “Hey. Thought you’d be around soon,” she told him.  
  
“Aye. She awake?” Chibs asked, nodding towards the door.  
  
“She’s up. Let’s talk out here for a moment,” Tara replied, joining him outside, closing the door behind her.  
  
“She’s doing alright?” he asked, folding his arms against his chest.  
  
Tara nodded. “Yeah. She’s fine.”  
  
“But?” Chibs asked, shooting her a pointed look. “You wouldn’t have pulled me outside to chat if there wasn’t something else.”  
  
Tara sighed, shaking her head. “It’s not really my place to say anything,” she started, frowning.  
  
“Spit it out, lass.”  
  
“It might be good for her, for the two of you, if you pretend the words you two exchanged yesterday never happened,” she replied, lips pursed together.  
  
Chibs silently observed her, considering her words. “Juicy thinks she was abused.”  
  
Tara sighed, careful to keep her expression neutral.  
  
“It’d explain a lot, wouldn’ it?”  
  
She nodded. “You guys seemed to be getting on well before… whatever transpired yesterday, I don’t think it’d hurt to put it on the back-burner for a while. She likes you. Give her some time to work her shit out.”  
  
Chibs nodded. “Aye. I s’pose you’re right.”  
  
“Does she have to be at the studio today?” he asked.  
  
Tara shook her head. “Luann told her to take the day. She’s got some other things to wrap up. Her lease is up on her apartment in LA. She’s got to tie up some loose ends down there, find a new place, that sort of thing.”  
  
“LA’s a six hour drive. Not gonna get much done down there in a day.”  
  
“She’s going to go down and sort it out next week, I think.”  
  
Chibs nodded, waiting for Tara to continue.  
  
“Go in and see her. She’s in the kitchen,” Tara told him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

* * *

Aubree took a sip of her coffee, frowning at her laptop. Finding a new place was more challenging than she’d thought it would be. She’d checked the realtor listings for apartments in Charming and nothing had looked appealing. _Hard to measure up to the luxury complex in LA._  
  
“How you feeling, lass?”  
  
Aubree glanced up, smiling softly as she caught sight of Chibs, watching her worriedly from the doorway. “I’m alright.”  
  
“Tara said you took the day off.”  
  
Aubree nodded affirmatively. “Luann told me to take a day to get myself together. It was stupid. I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing, mixing medication.”  
  
Chibs nodded. “Coffee?” he asked, nodding towards the mug in her hand.  
  
“Yeah,” she affirmed.  
  
“There’s tea in the cupboard above the stove,” she told him, smiling.  
  
Chibs nodded, striding towards the cabinets. Following her instructions, he opened the cupboard, finding a variety of tea, including his preferred brand of Earl Grey. “Look at you, having my favorite,” he told her, beaming.  
  
“I _may_ have gone through your cupboards when I was at your place,” she told him, cheeks flushing lightly.  
  
Quickly and efficiently, Chibs put on a kettle, preparing his cup of tea, as Aubree continued to sip her coffee, gaze focused on her laptop.  
  
“Top you off?” he asked, bringing his steaming teacup to the table, setting it opposite her.  
  
“If you don’t mind,” she replied, nodding.  
  
“Thanks,” she told him, as he placed her freshened mug of coffee before her.  
  
“Chibs?” she asked.  
  
“Mhmm?”  
  
“I’m sorry about yesterday, I didn’t-”  
  
Chibs shook his head, cutting her off. “You don’t need to explain anythin', lass. We’re good.”  
  
“I-”  
  
“Why don’ we agree to a redo?”  
  
“A redo?” Aubree asked, a single brow raised in confusion.  
  
“Aye. A redo of yesterday. Let’s just wipe that from the table. Wha’ever was said… it’s forgotten. No need to rehash any of that shite,” Chibs elaborated.  
  
“I feel like I owe you some sort of explanation,” Aubree retorted, sighing.  
  
Chibs shook his head. “Nah. Let’s just pick up where we left off before all that. As long as I can spend time with you, I’m content, lass.”  
  
“So….” she trailed off, smirking at him.  
  
“Aye? What is it, lass?”  
  
“So.. are you gonna kiss me or…” she trailed off, eyeing him expectantly.  
  
Chibs smirked back, leaning forward, pressing a kiss to her lips.  
  
“Much better,” she smirked, glancing down at the table.  
  
“Would you thank Juice for me? For getting me home yesterday? He didn’t have to do that.”  
  
“We look out for our own, lass. He took care of you like I’d take care of any of my brother’s women.”  
  
“So is that what I am, now?” she asked, smirking. “I’m your woman, Filip?”  
  
Chibs glanced down, shaking his head. “Somethae like that. The lads know I’m fond of you.”  
  
“I like you. You know that, right?” she asked, quietly.  
  
“Aye.”  
  
The two sat in silence for a while, each sipping their respective drinks, lost in their own thoughts.  
  
“Any plans for today, lass?” he asked.  
  
Aubree shrugged. “Nothing exciting. Looking for a place around here. My lease is up, and I can’t stay here with Luann forever.”  
  
“Any good leads?” he asked, taking a sip of tea.  
  
Aubree shook her head. “No… the apartment complexes around here… they leave a lot to be desired. I could look in Berkeley or San Fran but….” she trailed off, shrugging. “It’d be easier to stay closer to the studio, you know?”  
  
“Gemma could probably help you find a place. She helped Juicy and Jax find their places. You should talk to her,” Chibs suggested.  
  
Aubree nodded. “Maybe I will. I’m fresh out of ideas, that’s for damn sure.”  
  
“Any other plans for the day?” he asked her.  
  
“I should probably get an oil change… you wouldn’t happen to know where the nearest BMW dealership is, would you?” she asked.  
  
“Ye know I’m a mechanic, right lass?”  
  
“I couldn’t ask you to-”  
  
“It’d be a welcome change for the shite cars I spend my time working on. I know Juicy Boy enjoyed himself, taking a spin in your car.”  
  
“Oh I’m sure. It’s a fun car to drive. If you play your cards right, I might let you, too.”  
  
“I’ll take me Dyna any day of the week, sweetheart. Nothing better than a long ride on my bike.”  
  
“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before,” Aubree noted, reaching forward, brushing hair from Chibs’ eyes. “Maybe you’ll do me the honor, one of these days.”  
  
“That could be arranged, lass. Why don’t you follow me back to the club? I’ll take a look at yer car, you can speak with Gemma about finding ye a place?”  
  
“Sounds good,” Aubree agreed, grinning. “You owe me a ride on your bike, though. I’m gonna hold you to it.”


	7. Chapter 7

Aubree followed Chibs into the TM office, where they found Gemma, paperwork sprawled out across her desk.  
  
“How you feeling, sweetheart?” Gemma asked, looking to Aubree.  
  
“I’m fine, thanks.”  
  
“What’re you doing here, Chibs? I thought you were off today?” she asked, turning her attention to him.  
  
“Takin’ a look at her car for her. Can you believe she asked me where the nearest BMW dealership was?” he asked, laughing.  
  
Gemma shook her head, laughing. “That’s cute. No need to deal with dealerships, sweetheart. We’ve got plenty of fine mechanics right here,” she told the redhead, slinging an arm around Chibs’ shoulders. “He’ll take good care of it for you.”  
  
“Aubree’s lookin’ for a place ‘round here to rent. Was hopin’ you could give her a hand with that, Gem.”  
  
“Of course. You go ahead to the garage,” she told him, nodding. “Take a seat,” she said nodding towards Aubree, “let’s see if we can’t find you something nice to rent.”  
  
“You two work things out?” Gemma asked, tidying up the paperwork on her desk.  
  
“Yeah,” Aubree agreed, nodding.  
  
“Good. It’s nice to see him happy. You’re good for him.”  
  
Aubree beamed. “I dunno about all that,” she replied, shaking her head.  
  
“Filip’s been alone for a long time, now. It’s nice to see him with someone. Christ knows he deserves some relief, after all he’s been through.”  
  
Aubree nodded. “He’s a good man.”  
  
“So, we need to find you a new place, huh?” Gemma asked, clapping her hands together.  
  
“Yup. My lease is up in LA, so it’s time to get my own place and get out of Luann’s hair,” Aubree affirmed.  
  
“You looking to rent a house?”  
  
“Yeah. The apartments around here,” she paused, wrinkling her nose in disgust, “they leave something to be desired.”  
  
“Price range you’re comfortable with?”  
  
“Well, I was paying three grand a month for my place down there, so anything under that should be manageable,” Aubree retorted, sighing.  
  
“That gives us a lot of options, then. I’ll call a realtor I know, see if he can find you something you like.”  
  
“Thanks Gemma.”

* * *

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”  
  
“Christ, lass, you keep saying tha’, you’re gonnae start hurtin’ me feelings,” Chibs scoffed, wrapping his arm around her waist.  
  
Aubree nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she said softly, pressing her lips to his neck. “I didn’t want to have to go down there alone to pack.”  
  
“Are we doing this or what?”  
  
The two glanced over to Juice, who was waiting in his truck.  
  
“So what’s the plan?” Jax asked, approaching them.  
  
“Drive down today, pack up shite, head back in the mornin’. Right, lass?” Chibs asked.  
  
“Sounds about right,” Aubree affirmed.  
  
“If you need more help packing, I can send a prospect,” he offered.  
  
Aubree shook her head. “Nah. There’s not much left, honestly. The ex… he uh, helped himself to a lot of the furniture,” she explained, trying and failing to sound casual.  
  
“Bastard,” Chibs muttered under his breath.  
  
“It’s fine,” she said quietly, squeezing his arm. “Come on. We should get going.”  
  
“Aye, lass. Keys?”  
  
“Ah, taking the beemer for a spin, are you, Chibby?”  
  
“Like I’d trust this one to get us down there in one piece, miss texts and drives.”  
  
She rolled her eyes, smacking his arm. “I’ll have you know I’m an _excellent_ driver,” she retorted.  
  
Chibs shook his head. “You hit the curb driving us to the grocery store, yesterday. Twice. Then drove over the parking block.”  
  
Aubree shrugged. “Okay, to be fair, I’m still getting used to having to park, Chibby. In LA, everywhere you go has valet. I’m out of practice.”

* * *

“Eh, you weren’t kiddin’ about tha’ valet thing, were ye?” Chibs asked, handing the parking attendant Aubree’s keys.  
  
“Told you,” she replied, grabbing his arm. “C’mon, let’s get Juice and head up.”  
  
“Swanky digs, Aubree,” Juice told her, shaking his head. “You must have made bank as a lawyer.”  
  
Aubree frowned, looking down. “Yeah,” she agreed.  
  
Chibs shot him a pointed look. “Sorry,” he apologized.  
  
“It’s fine,” she told him, waving a hand dismissively. “Come on, let’s go up.”  
  
Aubrey opened the door to the apartment, leading the two inside. “Well, this is it,” she told them, sighing sadly.  
  
Chibs surveyed the space, surprised by how bare the apartment was. “Ye weren’t kiddin’ when you said there wasn’t much to pack.”  
  
Aubree nodded, staring down at the floor. “Yeah… looks like he’s been back since, took some more of the furniture.”  
  
He opened his mouth to speak, but Aubree cut him off, pressing her lips to his. “It’s fine, really. For the best, honestly. I don’t need shit that’ll remind me of old times. “I’ll get new furniture for us to screw on, eh?” she asked him, smiling weakly.  
  
“Bathroom?” Juice asked.  
  
“Down the hall, past the kitchen,” she told him, nodding in the general direction.  
  
“We should probably check my closet… make sure he didn’t steal anything of particular value to give to his new girlfriend,” she sighed, leading him in the direction of the bedroom.  
  
“Huh,” she muttered, arms folded against her chest as she stood in the doorway of the bedroom. “So he took the mattress, then. That’s cute,” a tinge of bitterness in her tone.  
  
“Lass,” Chibs said gently, pressing a kiss to her neck. “You okay?”  
  
“Yep,” she retorted, unconvincingly.  
  
He watched as she strode toward the walk in closet, shaking his head. _Poor girl. He robbed her blind while she was away._  
  
“He still had a key?” he asked.  
  
“Yeah,” she sighed, pulling luggage from off of a shelf and tossing it to the floor. “His name was on the lease. A stupid move on my part. Want to help me load this shit into these bags?” she asked, nodding towards her suitcases.  
  
He watched as she viciously began ripping garments off of hangers, shoving them into a duffel bag. “Don’t you want to fold things or somethin’, lass? You don’t want everything to wind up a wrinkled mess, do ye?”  
  
She shrugged. “What the fuck do I care? It’s not like I’ll ever have the chance to wear half of it, again. I spend most of my time naked or in my underwear. A porn star has no need for pencil skirts and Armani suits,” she spat, kicking one of the suitcases at her feet.  
  
“Easy, lass,” he soothed her, pulling her into an embrace. “I know it’s hard, lass. You’re packing up your old life. It’s gonnae be okay, ye hear?”  
  
“Yeah,” she mumbled, her body trembling.  
  
“Come on, now. Let’s finish packing up your things. Okay?”  
  
“Okay,” she agreed, sighing.  
  
The two worked in silence filling Aubree’s suitcases with the various shoes, clothing, and handbags that filled her closet.  
  
“Everything appear to be in order, love?” he asked, grabbing a bag in either hand and taking them out to the living room.  
  
“Yeah,” Aubree agreed, nodding, a bag in each hand. “He’s too stupid to know what anything in my closet was worth. Lucky me.”  
  
They found Juice in the kitchen, where he’d begun packing her dishes and cookware.  
  
Aubree began to assist him, making an effort to move quickly. “Want to do me a favor, pack up whatever’s left in the living room?” she asked Chibs, squeezing his hand. “I think there’s some knickknacks, maybe some DVDs. I’ll help Juice finish up in here.”  
  
“Aye,” he agreed, pecking her on the lips before heading towards the living room.  
  
“How’d you guys make out in the bedroom?” Juice asked, taping a box shut.  
  
“Good,” Aubree replied tersely. “Anything else we need to pack?” she asked.  
  
“You tell me. It’s your apartment,” Juice replied, shrugging.  
  
“I’m gonna go grab the rest of my towels and shit from the bathroom,” she announced.  
  
“Aub, you might not wanna do that.”  
  
“Why?” she asked, scowling. “What the fuck did he do to _that_ room?”  
  
Juice winced. “Um… it looks like someone left a message for you on the mirror,” he said weakly, biting his lip.  
  
Aubree rolled her eyes. “Let me go look at this shit,” she muttered, striding toward the bathroom.  
  
Turning the light on, she stared at the mirror. “ _Drop dead, you filthy fucking whore._ How original,” she scoffed. She gathered what she wanted in her arms, marching back to the kitchen.  
  
“You okay?” he asked, noticing her murderous expression.   
  
“Yup,” she snapped, tossing her armful of belongings into the nearest box.  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“I just want to get the fuck out of here,” she muttered, turning her back to him, in search of Chibs.  
  
“What time is it?” she asked, turning to Chibs.  
  
“A little before six, love.”  
  
“What do you say we just get the fuck out of here?” she asked.  
  
“You sure about that, lass? Don’t ye need to turn in your keys and whatnot?”  
  
“I’ll fucking mail them. I don’t care. I don’t want to spend another minute in this hellhole.”  
  
“What’s gotten into you, lass? Talk to me,” Chibs replied, pulling her into an embrace.  
  
She shook her head, letting him hold her. “I shouldn’t have come back here. I knew he would do this, would ruin everything that was mine. I should have just hired a packing service to handle this for me.”  
  
“Come on. Let’s go, then,” he told her, kissing her forehead. “We can be home by midnight.”  
  
“Guess I’ve got to buy all new furniture,” she muttered, lips pursed together in anger.  
  
“Don’t worry about it, lass. You’ll stay at mine for now. We’ll get you settled into your new place.”  
  
“Kay,” she agreed, sighing. 

* * *

__

The pair arrived back in Charming a little before 1am, Juice trailing behind them. “I’m so tired,” he complained, as the three began to unload both vehicles, piling her belongings in Chibs’ living room.  
  
“Thank you Juice, for helping me with this,” Aubree thanked him, offering him a hug. “I really appreciate it.”  
  
“Of course,” he told her, grinning. “Anything you need, that’s what family’s for.”  
  
“Thank ye, Juicy Boy. Don’t know wha’ I’d do without ye,” Chibs addressed him, pulling the younger man into an embrace.  
  
“Love ya, brother. Have a good night.”  
  
“Ye headin’ out?” Chibs asked.  
  
Juice nodded. “Yeah, it’s been a long day. I’m gonna head home, crash. I’ve got to tidy the place up some, anyway.”  
  
“There’s ne’r so much as a pin out of place in Juicy Boy’s home. Boy’s got OCD. His place reeks of bleach and all that health food shite he’s so fond of,” Chibs stage whispered, sharing a laugh with Aubree.  
  
“The only reason Chibs’ place isn’t a hellhole is because I clean it for him,” Juice retorted, mimicking him.  
  
Aubree shook her head, laughing. “I knew it!”  
  
“Have a good night, lad,” Chibs told the younger man, shaking his head. “We’ll see ye tomorrow at the club, alright?”  
  
Juice nodded. “Night,” he told the pair, heading out the door.  
  
Aubree followed Chibs to the kitchen, where he began to pour two glasses of whiskey.  
  
“Thank you. For everything,” she told him, accepting a glass and taking a small sip.  
  
“My pleasure,” he replied, bringing his own glass to his lips.  
  
Aubree grabbed his hand, tugging him towards the stairs. “Come on, we can just as easily drink in bed,” she told him, grinning.  
  
Chibs smirked. “You’re right, lass,” he agreed. “Let me grab the bottle, aye?”  
  
The two settled into bed, Aubree curled up on her side, head resting on his chest.  
  
“This is nice,” she told him, taking a sip of whiskey.  
  
“It is,” he agreed, smiling lightly.  
  
“A girl could get used to this,” she laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips.  
  
“Told ye you could jus’ move in wit’ me,” he retorted, the familiar scent of whiskey and his brand of cigarettes on his lips.  
  
“I’m beginning to think I should have, Filip,” she told him, taking another sip from her glass.  
  
“Yeah?” he asked.  
  
Aubree shrugged, took a swig of her drink. “Pour me another?” she asked, handing him the empty glass.  
  
“Ye wanna sit up a minute?” he asked.  
  
Aubree rolled her eyes but obliged, removing her head from his shoulder. She watched as he freshened their drinks, the now half-empty bottle of whiskey on his night stand.  
  
“Ye could, you know,” he murmured, breath hot on her ear as he leaned toward her, pulling her close to him. “This place could use a woman’s touch.”  
  
“Filip, I couldn’t ask you to… we’ve known each other all three months, barely.”  
  
“I jus’ don’t see the point in wastin’ all that money getting new furniture, paying rent, all that… ye know you’re just gonnae end up stayin’ here half the time, anyway,” he retorted, shrugging.  
  
Aubree frowned, considering his words. “Maybe we could give it a trial run,” she conceded, taking a deep sip of her drink. “I’ll let the realtor know I’m gonna hold off for now.”  
  
“Really?” Chibs asked, a faint smile on his lips.  
  
Aubree nodded, resting her head on his shoulder again. “You made a lot of valid points.Seems silly, when you put it that way.”  
  
“Good girl.”


	8. Chapter 8

Aubree froze, heart racing as she stared at the man lounging in her dressing room. _No. It can’t be. He’s in LA._  
  
“It’s been a while, Aub,” the blond said, thoughtlessly flicking ash from his cigarette onto the floor.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she hissed, stalking toward him.  
  
“Thought I’d come say hi. Don’t you miss me, babe?” he asked, winking at her.  
  
“I’m sure Erin will be thrilled,” she retorted, arms folded against her chest.  
  
“Don’t be that way, Aub. I missed you. Saw a few of your videos… brought back some memories. Come on, is it really that hard to believe?”  
  
She sighed, lowering herself into a chair. “What do you want from me, _C_?”  
  
He shot her his best impression of an innocent smile. “My retainer on my lawyer is tapped out. I need to come up with another five grand-”  
  
“No,” she interrupted, slamming her fist on her dressing table.  
  
“Come on, Aubree. Do you really want me to go to jail? You can’t do this to me,” he protested, reaching forward and placing a hand on her thigh.  
  
“Why don’t you ask Erin for money?” she hissed, removing his hand. “Miss art gallery. She must have cash to spare.”  
  
“Don’t be a bitch. You’re making cash hand over fist, you and I both know it. Just help me out, Aub. Come on. You know I’ll pay you back.”  
  
Aubree laughed hollowly. “Yeah, pay me back. Like every other fucking time you guilted me into blowing my money on you and your fucking bullshit-” she was cut off by a hard slap across her face.  
  
“Don’t,” he warned, piercing blue eyes staring hatefully at her.  
  
“Get the fuck out of my dressing room,” she said lowly, her voice dripping with venom. “NOW. Get the fuck out of here or I’ll scream.”  
  
“Aubree-”  
  
She cut him off, emitting a high-pitched shriek. Eyes blazing with hatred, he lunged at her, shoving her to the ground, one hand wrapped around her throat. “Shut the fuck up you stupid cunt,” he warned, pulling a knife from his pocket.  
  
“Chris,” she pleaded, trying to pull away from his grip.  
  
“Do you really think I won’t kill you? What the fuck do I care? All you’re good for is your money. You’re a filthy whore, always have been. You and that nasty cunt of yours. Good to see you recognize that, are back in your element,” he told her, pressing the knife to her neck, drawing blood.  
  
“I’ll give you the money,” Aubree sobbed, tears flowing down her cheeks. “Okay? I’ll give it to you, just let me go. Chris… please, just let me go.”  
  
“Where is it?” he pressed.  
  
“There’s cash in my dressing table, bottom right drawer,” she gasped, struggling against him. “Not all of it, but I can get the rest. Just let me go, please.”  
  
“Nah, there’s time for that later,” he grinned, unbuttoning his fly with his free hand.  
  
Aubree’s face paled, lips quivering. “Chris, don’t. Please, I’ll give you the money, just don’t, please.”  
  
“Take it you stupid fucking whore,” he retorted, shoving her underwear aside as he swiftly entered her.  
  
Aubree struggled against him, attempting to shove him off her. She was met with a sharp slap across the face, her lip splitting from impact. “Take it,” he ordered, pressing the knife harder to her throat.  
  
Aubree nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. _Just let him do it. He’s going to do it anyway._  
  
Once finished, he pulled out of her, re-zipping his pants. “Not bad for a filthy lying whore like yourself,” he laughed, gripping her by her hair, pulling her up off her back. She cried out in pain, jerking her head to the side. “ _Fuck_!” she screamed, her sudden motion drawing the knife sharply against her skin, hot crimson flowing from the wound. 

* * *

“The fuck’s going on here?”  
  
Aubree glanced up to the doorway, catching sight of a familiar face.  
  
“Nothing that’s any of your business, old man,” Chris scoffed, pressing the knife harder still. “Just a little domestic dispute. Move along.”  
  
“I’m going to give you one chance, lad. Get off her and get your sorry ass out of here. Aye?” Chibs snarled, gun pointed at the blond.  
  
Chris glared, removing the knife from her neck. “We’re cool here, man. I was just leaving,” he said, holding his hands up.  
  
“Why the fuck did you have a knife to her throat, eh lad?” Chibs growled, grabbing Chris’ arm, forcing it behind his back.  
  
“We were just having a little fun. Aubree likes it rough, don’t you baby girl?” he asked, turning to the redhead for confirmation.  
  
Aubree didn’t respond, her eyes glassy as she drew her legs close to her chest, attempting to make herself appear even smaller than she was.  
  
“Tell him, you stupid fucking whore,” he shouted, screaming in agony as Chibs twisted his arm back further.  
  
Chibs watched Aubree, seeing her shrinking in fear. Two and two clicked together.  
  
“Move,” he ordered, pulling him along and out the door. The blond obeyed, allowing Chibs to lead him down the hallway, out the door, to the parking lot. “Get your sorry arse out of here. If I ever see you in these parts again, I will kill you. You stay away from her. You understand?”  
  
“Or what? Is mister hotshot biker gonna beat me up-”  
  
Chibs cut him off, hitting him across the face with the butt of his pistol. He smirked as drips of blood and several teeth littered the ground.  
  
“Enjoy my sloppy seconds, bro. Aubree always was a first-class whore,” the blond retorted, trickles of blood streaming from his lips. He spat, blood spattering across Chibs’ boots.  
  
Chibs’ eyes narrowed. “Ye didn’t.”  
  
Chris grinned. “Why don’t you go ask her? Probably should go check on her, looked like she was bleeding pretty badly when you dragged me out of there. Be a pity to loose a good whore, wouldn’t it?”  
  
“You’re dead,” Chibs warned, aiming his pistol at his head.  
  
“I’d think twice about that. My woman knows where I am. If I were to turn up missing…” he paused, laughing. “It’d be a shame for a pretty little thing like Red in there to wind up behind bars, wouldn’t it?”  
  
“She didnae do shit to you.”  
  
“We’ve got a long history, old man. She’s pulled a gun on me enough times for probable cause. She ain’t got her lawyer connections to protect her, anymore,” Chris retorted, reaching for his own gun.  
  
Chibs stared him down, considering. “Ye know who I am, boy?” he asked, pointing at the patch on his kutte. “Ye think it’s wise, laying your hands on a Son’s ol’ lady? Think we wouldn’t kill ye for less?”  
  
Chris observed him cautiously, waiting for the man to continue.  
  
“We’ve got charters everywhere, lad. One wrong move an’ I’ll have our brothers down in San Bernadino take you out, you insignificant, worthless piece of white trash,” Chibs continued, gun pointed squarely at his chest.  
  
Chris nodded, putting his own gun back in its holster. “We’re cool, man. I’m going. Okay?”  
  
“Get the hell out o’ here. Stay away from her. Consider this is a warning,” he told him, pulling the trigger, gun aimed at the blond’s shoulder.  
  
He smirked as the blond fell to his knees, clutching at the wound with his good arm. “Go. Now.”

* * *

The blond nodded, rising shakily to his feet. Chibs watched as the man stumbled across the parking lot, getting into his car. Chibs stood there for several moments, processing the events that had just occurred. “Shite,” he swore, rushing back into the studio. “Chibs,” Lyla said, holding out a hand to stop him from proceeding down the hall.  
  
“Where is she? Is she okay?” he asked, shoving past her.  
  
He shoved his way into Aubree’s dressing room, where a crowd of the girls had formed.  
  
“She’s in shock, Luann thinks. Isn’t responding to anyone,” Lyla offered, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Hey,” he started, approaching the girl. “Aubree, lass, are you okay?” he asked, reaching out to touch her.  
  
His stomach roiled as he saw her shrink away from him, eyes grazing the floor to avoid making eye contact. Her hands shook as she held a bloodied towel to her neck.  
  
“Le’ me take a look at tha’, love,” he said softly, taking a step closer to her.  
  
Aubree glanced up at him, eyes blank, looking from him to Luann.  
  
“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. He’s not going to hurt you,” Luann told the girl, smoothing her hair down gently. “Let me take a look.”  
  
Chibs’ jaw clenched at the words, but he nodded, carefully placing his hand over her own, removing the cloth from her neck.  
  
“Shite,” he muttered, placing the towel back to her neck, reapplying pressure. “Ye got any medical supplies around here?” he asked, looking to Luann.  
  
“This something you can handle or should I get her over to St. Thomas?”  
  
Chibs frowned, giving her the once over, checking for any additional injuries. Bile rose in his throat as he caught sight of the red stain blooming across the front of her skirt, droplets of blood dripping down her thighs. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, turning his head away, running a hand through his hair.  
  
“I shouldae killed him. Fucking bastard, Jesus Christ.”  
  
“Chibs,” Luann started, approaching him.  
  
“Get her over to St. Thomas,” he told her, hands shaking with rage.  
  
“I’ll call Ope,” Lyla offered.  
  
“What’re you doing, just standing there? She needs medical attention, Jesus!” Chibs shouted, unable to contain his anger.  
  
Luann nodded, springing into action. “Ly, help me with her,” she asked, nodding to the blonde.  
  
Chibs watched as the two women got Aubree to her feet, wrapping her coat around her shoulders. He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. _Jesus fucking Christ._  
  
“Come on honey, we need to go,” Luann told the girl, pressing a kiss to the redhead’s head. “You’re okay sweetheart.”

* * *

Jax felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. “Yeah?” he asked.  
  
“They just brought Aubree into St. Thomas,” Tara replied, not bothering with a greeting.  
  
“What, why?”  
  
“Luann said the ex attacked her at the studio. Don’t know much beyond that, she’s not speaking.”  
  
“Shit,” Jax replied, shaking his head. “How bad?”  
  
“You should have someone go check in on Chibs. He’s still down at Cara Cara, I think.”  
  
“Tara, what happened?”  
  
“It’s bad, Jax. Check in on him, okay? I’ll let you know when I know more.”  
  
Jax nodded, hanging up.  
  
“Something wrong?” Clay asked, eyebrow raised.  
  
“Aubree got attacked. Ex boyfriend, apparently. She’s at St. Thomas”  
  
“Does Chibs know?”  
  
Jax nodded. “Yeah. I’m gonna head down to Cara Cara, check in on him.”  
  
“How bad?” Juice asked.  
  
Jax sighed. “Bad enough that Tara’s not giving me any details.”  
  
“Shit. What should we do?” Juice replied, frowning.  
  
“You go get him, bring him back to the club,” Clay retorted, nodding at Jax.  
  
“And you?” he asked, turning to Juice. “You’re the hacker, aren’t you? Start digging into this scumbag. I want to know everything you can find about him. Now.”

* * *

Chibs took his seat at the table, head hung down.  
  
“Any word about her?” Clay asked, taking his place at the head of the table.  
  
He shook his head. “No. Tara’s dealing with it. Said she’s gonnae need to speak with the cops abou’ wha’ happened.”  
  
“I’ll send Unser down there. We’ll keep it quiet, okay?”  
  
He nodded.  
  
“I’m sorry, brother.”  
  
Clay cleared his throat once the others were gathered, getting the club’s attention. “Alright, so by now I’m sure you’re all aware shit went down at Cara Cara.” He paused, nodding at Chibs. “You want to tell them, son?”  
  
“Aye,” he agreed, nodding. He glanced around the table, taking a deep breath.  
  
“Ex boyfriend came ‘round Cara Cara, lookin’ for Aubree. Found ‘im holdin’ a knife to her throat. Gashed her open pretty good…” he started, shutting his eyes for a moment, blinking away tears.  
  
“He um… he raped her. Pretty roughly, from th’ looks of it. She had blood trailing down…” he trailed off, choking back a sob.  
  
He felt Piney’s hand on his back. “You’re alright, son.”  
  
“Jesus Christ,” several of the men murmured around the table, shaking their heads.  
  
“I’m sorry, brother,” Tig told him.  
  
“I let ‘im go. Didnae realize what he’d done ta her when I dragged him out o’ there,” he continued, staring down at the table, lips pressed tightly together. “Said he woul’ get pinned on her if he went missing. Somethin’ about a long history of her and him goin’ at it. I didnae want t’at.”  
  
“I’ll put out the word to the other charters. We’ll take care of him, man. Don’t worry, brother,” Jax assured the older man, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  
  
Chibs shrugged it off, shaking his head. “I let him get away,” he muttered. “Shouldae killed ‘im meself. Fuckin’ bastard.”  
  
“He threatened her. You were tryin’ to protect her. Not your fault, man.”  
  
“What’s his story, anyway? You dig up anything yet, Juicy?” Clay asked, glancing at the youngest man at the table.  
  
Juice nodded. “Christopher Walsh, aliases of Eddie Tens, Matthew Walsh, and Dave Moses. Irish decent-”  
  
“Thought he looked like a filthy mick bastard,” Chibs interrupted, scowling.  
  
Juice looked to Clay, who nodded, silently ordering him to continue. “Thirty years old, originally from Oakland, now based in LA. Got connects with the AB and IRA. No real allegiance to anyone, just another junkie dealer. Mostly pushes H and crank.”  
  
“What kind of connects with the Irish are we talking, here?” Opie asked.  
  
“Nothing major. He’s first generation Irish out here in the states. Has some family ties on his mother’s side, low level foot soldiers.”  
  
“Any priors?”  
  
“Did three years in Lancaster, down in LA, for gun charges. Got probation for some drug shit a year after he got out. He was called in for questioning about the gangland shooting of a Mayan Prez, but was never charged. A couple of things like that, actually.”  
  
“Think he’s a rat?” Tig asked.  
  
“Nah, think he used _her_ to keep the cops off his back.”  
  
Chibs scowled. “Any recent charges?”  
  
“A little over a year ago, there were some gun charges. Armed robbery, violation of parole. Case got thrown out.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Evidence tampering. No tangible proof. He got off and she got disbarred.”  
  
“Shite,” Chibs swore, shaking his head.  
  
“Yeah,” Juice replied, nodding.  
  
“Anything else?”  
  
Juice frowned. “A lot of domestic disputes. There’s at least two dozen of ‘em over the past nine years. She never pressed charges, though.”  
  
Chibs gritted his teeth, slamming his fist on the table. “Goddamn it.”  
  
“How do you want to handle this, Chibs?” Clay asked, eyeing him carefully.  
  
“We get bloody. I want him dead,” he growled, slamming his fist on the table for emphasis.  
  
“I’m gonna reach out to the other charters, get them out looking for him. We’ll take care of this Chibs.”  
  
“Thank ye, brother,” Chibs retorted, nodding.  
  
“You should head up to the hospital, man. We can take it from here. She shouldn’t be alone.”  
  
Chibs shrugged. “She’s got the girls wit’ her. Na’ sure she’ll wanna see me.”  
  
Jax turned to Juice. “Take him up to the hospital. He should be with her. Go. Now.”  
  
Juice nodded, rising to his feet. “Come on, man,” he said, looking to Chibs.  
  
“Aye. Alright.”

* * *

“You alright man?” Juice asked, glancing over at Chibs, who had been staring out the passenger seat window the entire ride.  
  
He shrugged.  
  
“She’s going to be okay, man. We’ll take care of that sick fuck.”  
  
“You find anythin’ else I should know abou’ when you were digging up intel about ‘im, Juicy?” Chibs asked, his voice gravelly.  
  
“I dunno. What were you looking to find out?” he asked, eyeing him curiously.  
  
“There anything on record about her pullin’ a gun on him?”  
  
“Pretty specific, Chibby,” Juice retorted, brows raised.  
  
“Jus’ want te know if there’s any truth in his threat,” Chibs replied, lighting a cigarette.  
  
“Yeah. Came across a few police reports mentioning they showed up to find her holding a gun to his head. Self-defense, of course.”  
  
Chibs nodded, taking a drag. “Anythin’ else of note?”  
  
Juice nodded hesitantly. “You’re not gonna like it, though.”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“He was pimping her out. Used her to gain favor from suppliers, make a few quick bucks.”  
  
Chibs slammed his fist against the dashboard, putting a dent in it from impact. “What the fuck.”

* * *

“How’s she doin’, doc?” Chibs asked, rising to his feet the moment Tara entered the waiting room.  
  
“She needed a few stitches to close the laceration to her neck. There was… ahem… genital trauma, but nothing that won’t heal on it’s own. Some bruising on her face, nothing broken. She’ll be sore for a few days, but she should be fine.”  
  
“That’s not what I asked, Tar,” Chibs replied, paling at the mention of genital trauma. “How is she? She wouldn’ even look at me after it happened, before they brought ‘er here.”  
  
Tara sighed. “She’s still dissociating. Unser tried talking to her, asking some questions, but she was non-responsive.”  
  
“Shite. How long will she be like this?” he asked, rubbing his face with his hands.  
  
“I’m not sure,” Tara replied, apologetic. “Her doctor thinks it would be best if we give her a sedative, let her get some rest. Maybe once she’s had some time, she’ll be more receptive to speaking.”  
  
“She’s not alone, is she?” he asked, frowning. “She shouldn’ be alone right now, should she?”  
  
“Lyla is sitting with her. Luann’s with Uncer, filling him in on what happened,” Tara affirmed.  
  
“Can I see her?”  
  
Tara nodded. "Yeah. Follow me.”  
  
Chibs turned to Juice, who squeezed his arm gently. “Go see her. I’ll wait here.”

* * *

Chibs’ heart ached painfully as he caught sight of the girl propped up in a hospital bed, long red hair hanging in her face.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Chibs,” Lyla told him, rising to her feet and pulling him into an embrace.  
  
“Thank ye for stayin’ with her, lass. She shouldn’, shouldn’ be alone,” he told her, blinking tears away.  
  
“Want me to give you a moment?” she asked, nodding to the vacant chair beside the bed.  
  
“Aye.”  
  
The two women nodded. “We’ll be in the hall, okay?”  
  
He nodded, waiting for the two to leave before taking a seat beside Aubree.  
  
“Hey,” he said softly, struggling to keep his composure.  
  
She turned to look at him, green eyes blank.  
  
“I’m so sorry, lass,” he told her, shaking his head. “Christ, I’m so sorry.”  
  
He stood, pacing closer to her bedside. “I shouldae done a better job to protect ye,” he told her, biting his lip.  
  
He paused, watching as her eyes flooded with tears, her lower lip quivering with emotion.  
  
“Lass, ye okay? I’m sorry, I didnae mean to upset, ye,” he started, panicked.  
  
Without warning, she threw herself at him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck as she began to sob against his shoulder.  
  
“Shhh,” he said soothingly, taking a seat on the edge of her bed, pulling her into a more comfortable position as she continued to cry.  
  
“You’re alright, lass,” he said softly, rubbing gentle circles on her back. “Yer alright. I’ve got ye.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Can I help you?” Aubree asked, catching sight of the cop standing in her doorway.  
  
“Chief Unser… I came round yesterday but you weren’t up for talking, it seemed,” he offered, entering the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
Aubree nodded, crossing her arms against her chest.   
  
“I’m a friend of the club, sweetheart. Clay asked me to take care of this myself. We’ll keep it quiet,” he told her.  
  
Aubree nodded, visibly relaxing. “Thanks,” she replied, nodding. “I don’t want to press charges.”  
  
“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t,” he retorted, frowning.   
  
“That enough of a statement for you?” she asked.  
  
“Yeah, sure hon,” he told her. “Let Chibs know for me, if there’s anything I can do to help with this… give me a call.”  
  
“Sure,” she agreed, nodding. “Thanks.”

* * *

“How’re you holding up?” Tara asked, grabbing her chart and glancing at it.  
  
“I’m fine,” she retorted, shrugging.   
  
“You were pretty out of it when you came in yesterday. I know Dr. Fletcher went over everything with you, but I’m not sure how much you retained. Figured I’d stop in and answer any questions you might have.”  
  
“How bad is it?” she asked, lips pressed firmly together.  
  
“You’ve got some internal damage. Nothing requiring surgery, but your body’s going to need some time to heal.”  
  
“Specifics?” Aubree asked, face expressionless.  
  
“There was some tearing… very minor, nothing that shouldn’t heal up on it’s own. Internal abrasions… um, cervical bruising… intercourse will be very painful if you don’t let those things heal first,” Tara continued, staring down at the chart.  
  
“How soon can I go back to work?”  
  
“Your doctor wants you refraining from intercourse for at least two weeks. They’ve got you scheduled for a follow-up appointment, to make sure everything is healing correctly, he should clear you to resume normal activity if everything looks good.”  
  
“They’ve got you on three antibiotics, a preventative measure against any sexually transmitted-”  
  
Aubree flinched holding out her hand to stop her from speaking. “Does Filip know?”  
  
“He was there, Aub. He saw you, made the call that you needed medical attention.”  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
“What’s wrong?”   
  
“I told you before… I don’t want him to see me like this… so… _weak_. It changes things.”  
  
“There was, um… something else from your examination that I wanted to go over with you.”  
  
Aubree eyed her carefully. “The scar tissue?” she asked.  
  
Tara nodded. “There’s some pretty extensive scarring, Dr. Fletcher was concerned.”  
  
Aubree shrugged. “Endometriosis played a part. I uh, had chlamydia that went untreated for about… oh I don’t know, three or four years. That didn’t help matters. I’m basically sterile.”  
  
“You’ve got an IUD-”  
  
“I’m not stupid. I’m not about to take a risk, in the off-chance I’m not… the last time I saw my gynecologist, she said it was 80-90% likely I’m infertile.” She paused, frowning. “Don’t tell Filip that. Please.”  
  
“I don’t think he’d care.”  
  
“It’s my personal fucking business. If a time comes when he needs to know… I’ll tell him, then.”

* * *

“I want you to take some time off, hon.”  
  
Aubree frowned, staring up at the blonde standing beside her. “I’m fine, Luann. Honestly. I want to work.”  
  
“You’ve got to give yourself time to heal, sweetheart.”  
  
“I’m not a victim. I don’t need to fucking _heal_. You think this hasn’t happened before? Who fucking cares?”  
  
“ _He_ did this to you before?”  
  
She shrugged, averting her gaze from the blonde. “It’s fine,” she mumbled.  
  
“He raped you, Aubree. Raped you and put a knife to your throat. That isn’t _fine_.”  
  
“It’s who he is. He takes what he wants. You get used to it.”  
  
Luann shook her head, smoothing down Aubree’s hair. “That’s not something you should _have_ to get used to, sweetheart.”  
  
“Honestly Luann, I’m fine to work. Once they release me, I want to get right back into it.”  
  
“You’ve got some… internal injuries, Aubree. You need to physically heal, love. I’m not letting you get back in front of the camera until you’re healed. Got it?”  
  
“I just want to forget it happened. You think it’s going to do me any good, sulking around with nothing to keep me busy? Nothing to do but _think_ and _dwell on_ what happened?” Aubree snapped.  
  
“This isn’t the time to fuck the pain away, Aubree,” Luann retorted, shaking her head. “I know that’s what you do. You’ve been doing it for years. You think I don’t see you shutting down in front of the camera, using sex to numb yourself?”  
  
Aubree stared ahead, face expressionless. “If you don’t let me work, I’m going to lose my shit. You know that. Please. Please just let me work, Luann. Even if it’s just light duty on the web-cams. I need this. You know I do.”  
  
Luann frowned. “I want you to take at least a week before you come back to work,” she said finally, obviously distraught with her decision. “Don’t make me regret this by pushing yourself too much when you come back.”  
  
“Why wait?” Aubree whined. “They’ll probably release me this afternoon or tomorrow. I can work, I’m fine.”  
  
Luann laughed sadly. “You say that now, sweetheart. But see how you’re feeling once they take you off the morphine. You’re not going to want to do much but sleep once you get out of here.”  
  
Aubree sighed. “You’re right,” she agreed finally. “Last time I was basically comatose for a week and a half. “Pretty sure the damage wasn’t as bad then, either. _Fuck_.”  
  
“Chibby been in to see you?”   
  
Aubree shrugged. “Yeah, yesterday. I don’t remember much of it,” she said stiffly, willing herself to block the images of her sobbing against his shoulder from her memory.  
  
“I saw him in the waiting room this morning. He’s worried about you. All the boys are.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“It might do you some good to open up to him, Aub. You’ve been carrying this shit about Chris on your own for too long. Let someone else help bear the burden.”  
  
“I can’t ask him to take on all that shit, it’s too much to ask-”  
  
“Filip's no stranger to pain, himself, Aubree. He’ll understand.”  
  
“Maybe,” she said hesitantly, worrying the hem of the bed sheet with her fingers.

* * *

Tara found Chibs pacing the waiting room, sunglasses perched precariously atop his head. Juice sat a few seats away from where he paced, eyeing him warily.   
  
“Any news, doc?” Juice asked, catching sight of Tara first.  
  
“She’s in better spirits this morning,” Tara affirmed, nodding.  
  
“Good,” Chibs replied, smiling.   
  
“Dr. Fletcher is in with her right now, but I can take you to see her after.”  
  
“Great, thanks doc.”  
  
“Actually, can I talk to you for a minute, Chibs?” she asked.  
  
“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, following her to a deserted office.   
  
“You’ll want to keep an eye on her,” Tara started, once the door was closed behind them.  
  
“Aye. She holding up okay?”  
  
“She’s… she’s dealing with it in her own way. I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but… I know you care about her. So here. Read through it. It might answer some questions,” Tara told him, thrusting a medical file into his hands.  
  
“I’m not reading her medical records, Tar,” he told her, handing the file back. “You’ve got something to tell me, you say it.”  
  
Tara nodded, considering how to proceed. “She…” she trailed off, frowning.   
  
“This isn’t the first time she’s… had this happen to her,” Chibs said, taking Tara’s hesitance to speak to imply that.   
  
“No, it isn’t,” Tara agreed, shaking her head. “She has a past history of certain behaviors following this sort of trauma.”  
  
Chibs looked at her, waiting for further explanation.  
  
“She’s going to pretend everything is normal when she comes home, Chibs. Christ, she’s already been in there with Luann, telling her she wants to get back to work. She won’t be cleared for sexual activity for at least two weeks. But I’m sure she’ll turn to you and want you to help her block out the memories of what happened.”  
  
He nodded. “Anythin’ else I shoul’ know?”  
  
“She’ll probably seem fine for a while. Might drink a little too much.. well, more than usual. Might be a little distant, emotionally…” she trailed off, a twitch of hesitation apparent on her face. “She’ll probably stop eating. She’s got a long history of that. Eating disorder. She seems to revert back to that following traumatic incidents.”  
  
“Wha’ do you mean by that, lass?” Chibs asked, beginning to feel overwhelmed by the overload of information Tara had dumped on him.  
  
“The ex raped her back in 2002… They did a SAFE exam, but she refused to press charges. It wasn’t as bad as this time, but… she came back for a follow up appointment two months later and 18 pounds lighter.”  
  
Chibs’ brows furrowed, concerned. “She doesn’ have eighteen pounds to lose, doc.”  
  
Tara nodded. “I shouldn’t have even told you that. She’ll be furious if she finds out. I just…” Tara sighed, shaking her head. “I know she’s putting a good front up now, but ignoring the situation doesn’t make it go away. Someone needs to be aware of her tendencies, needs to keep an eye on her.”  
  
“Aye. I’ll keep it to myself. I’ll look after her.”  
  
“Jax said he’s looking for the bastard… are you going to kill him?” she asked.  
  
Chibs nodded.  
  
Tara smiled. “Good.”

* * *

To Chibs’ surprise, he found Aubree sitting crossed-legged in bed, flipping through a magazine. “Hey,” she greeted him, offering him a soft smile.   
  
“How you feelin’, love?”  
  
She shrugged. “I’m okay.”  
  
“You don’t have to put on a brave face for me, lass.”  
  
Aubree stared at him, her smile disappearing. “It’s really not a big deal, Filip.”  
  
He stared back, certain he had misheard the girl. “I’m sorry, wha’ did ye just say, lass?”  
  
She shrugged, beginning to fidget with the hospital bracelet around her right wrist. “It’s really not that big of deal. These things happen… occupational hazard, right?” she asked, smiling wryly.   
  
Chibs frowned. “This _is_ a big deal, lass. He fuckin’ raped you, had a bloody knife to your throat.”  
  
“I’m… I’m fine. Really. Can you talk to Tara, see if they’ll let me go home? I want to go home, Filip.”  
  
“Stop pretending that this is fine, Aubree. It’s not _fine_. It’s not fine that the bastard who did this to ye is the same one who…” he trailed off, struggling to reign in his anger.   
  
“So… we should probably talk,” Chibs started, taking a seat in the chair beside her bed.  
  
Aubree observed him for a moment, paling as she caught sight of the grim expression on his face. _He knows. Now he understands why you are the way you are. Fuck._  
  
“Well, I guess you know, now,” she whispered, lowering her head to shield the tears running down her cheeks.  
  
“Aye, I s’pose I do,” he agreed, jerking his head in agreement.  
  
“He’s the reason you’re… the way you are, eh?”  
  
She shrugged. “I guess you could say that.”  
  
“This usual behavior for him, lass?”  
  
Aubree shrugged, looking away. “I don’t want to talk about it, Filip, please,” she said quietly.  
  
“He do this to you before?”  
  
“Yeah,” she agreed, nodding slightly. “Couple times. We’d fight. I’d pack my shit and leave… he’s just… one of those guys, I guess. He takes what he wants and it’s not worth it to fight.”  
  
“Doc said you refused to press charges.”  
  
“Wouldn’t make a difference if I did. I was a lawyer, Filip. I know how these cases go. You think it’d be worth it for me, to have this dragged out in the court of public opinion? It’d go to trial and you know what the jury would see?” She paused, taking a deep breath. “They’d see a fucking disgraced ex lawyer turned porn star, crying rape. I’ve seen how this plays out… even if any of them believe it, they’ll still think I got what I deserved. That’s how the defense will spin it… I was asking for it, given my line of work. If not that, they’ll spin it that I’m a scorned ex, trying to get back for being dumped.”  
  
“Pro’lly for the best. The cops never do much but muck things up, anyway,” Chibs agreed, reaching into his kutte for his cigarettes.  
  
“Can’t smoke in here,” Aubree reminded him, shaking her head. “They’ve got me stuck with these goddamn nicotine patches,” she continued, holding out her arm.   
  
“We’re gonnae handle him, love. You don’t have to worry.”  
  
“I don’t need you to fight for me, Filip. I’m a big girl. I can handle this myself.”  
  
“See, tha’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her lips. “You’re mine. That means I’m not gonae let anyone hurt ye. I take care of what’s mine. I’ll take care of th’ bastard, make sure he never lays a hand on ye ever again.”  
  
Aubree sighed, nodding in acceptance. “Okay,” she agreed, grabbing his hand, squeezing it. “I’ll let you take care of it. Thank you.”  
  
“Do you know what they did with my purse?” she asked, glancing around the hospital room.  
  
“I think one of the girls held onto it when they brought you here. Didnae want the hospital folk riflin’ through your things an’ whatnot,” Chibs offered, shrugging. “Why?”  
  
Aubree nodded, visibly relaxing. “Just… have some things in there I’d rather not have to explain,” she replied.  
  
“Ye mean like tha’ glock you’ve got in there with the serial numbers filed off?” he asked quietly.  
  
Aubree froze. “How’d you know about that?”  
  
“I’m not daft, lass. I’ve seen the guns you’ve got salted away in the house.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Aubree winced, becoming dully aware that the painkillers she’d been given were wearing off.  
  
“Ye okay, lass?” Chibs asked, recognizing the look of discomfort on her face.  
  
“Yeah… just… pretty sore, I guess. They took me off morphine a couple of hours ago… didn’t realize how bad the pain was until now,” she muttered, curling up on her side. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut.  
  
“Want me to get a nurse? Have her give you somethin’ for the pain?” he asked, concerned.  
  
“Mhm,” she nodded.   
  
“You need to get some rest, lass. There’ll be plenty of time for us to talk about all of this,” he gestured vaguely with his right hand, “when you’re home. Jus’ take it easy. Alright?”  
  
She nodded affirmatively. “Good girl,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.


	10. Chapter 10

“Hey, I packed you a bag of clothes to change into,” Lyla offered, holding up a shopping bag.  
  
“Thanks,” Aubree replied gratefully, rising to her feet, albeit with some difficulty.  
  
“How are you feeling?”  
  
Aubree sighed. “Terrible,” she admitted, frowning.  
  
“You’ll feel better when you get home. I’m sure you can’t wait to spend the night in your own bed.”  
  
“I just want to take a fucking shower,” she retorted. “I haven’t been able to have one since…” she trailed off.  
  
“What? Are you serious?” Lyla asked, outraged.  
  
“Yeah,” she agreed, staring down at the floor.  
  
“Come on, then. Get changed and let’s get you out of here. The boys are waiting out in the lobby.”  
  
Aubree nodded. Not one to be bothered with modesty, she shrugged her hospital gown off, letting it fall in a heap on the floor. Wincing slightly from the pain of her bruising, she changed into the outfit Lyla had selected: black leggings and a loose fitting sweater. She’d also packed her favorite pair of flats. “Thanks for going to get me something to wear,” she told the blonde. “Do you know what they did with the clothes I…” she trailed off.  
  
“Tara had them burnt.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Oh, I’ve got your purse, too!” Lyla added, grabbing it from where she’d left it on the floor.  
  
“Thank god,” Aubree mumbled, digging through it and finding her sunglasses case. She quickly slipped on the pair of oversized black plastic frames, which successfully hid half of her face. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”  
  
She stood, impatient, as the doctor rattled off various highlights from her discharge packet. “Okay, okay, I’ve got it,” she muttered, ripping the packet from the doctor’s hands.  
  
“You have a follow-up appointment in two weeks. The date and time are in the packet.”  
  
“Fantastic,” Aubree replied, rolling her eyes. “Can we go, already?”  
  
Shoving the packet into her bag, Aubree began to exit the room.  
  
“Miss,” an orderly interrupted, placing a hesitant hand on her arm.  
  
“What?” she hissed, lips curled into a snarl.  
  
“You need to be taken out in a wheelchair… hospital policy.”  
  
“No,” she said bluntly, shoving the man out of her way. “We’re done here. Got it?”  
  
She continued to stalk down the hallway, ignoring the fact that her body was aching and her head was still hazy from the pain medication she was on. She waited a moment for Lyla to catch up with her, gratefully taking the blonde’s arm to steady herself.  
  
“Let me hold your bag, okay?” she offered.  
  
Aubree nodded, reluctantly handing her purse over to her.

* * *

Juice stood beside Chibs in the waiting area of St. Thomas, arms folded against his chest. “How is she?” he asked. He hadn’t seen Aubree since before the _incident_. She’d specifically requested that her hospital release be low-key; Chibs, Juice, and Lyla were the only ones present.  
  
Chibs shrugged. “Hard to say. She’ll be okay, though, Juicy,” he said, nodding towards the figures approaching them down the hall.  
  
“Hey,” Aubree greeted the two men, Lyla close at her side, holding her bags.  
  
“Gemma came by and tidied up the house. Changed the sheets and all. Thought that migh’ be nice for ye,” Chibs told her, pulling her into an embrace.  
  
“That’s sweet of her,” Aubree noted, resting her head on his shoulder.  
  
“Let’s get you home, eh?”  
  
“Please.”  
  
Aubree slumped forward in her seat in the back of the car, burying her face in her hands.  
  
“Ye alrigh’ lass?” Chibs asked, concerned.  
  
“Just dizzy, I’ll be okay,” she muttered.  
  
The foursome drove back to Chibs’ in relative silence, Aubree remaining slumped forward for the duration of the drive. Carefully, Chibs helped her out of the car and into the house, abandoning her bags by the front door.  
  
“You didn’t have to come get me, Filip… I could have taken a cab,” she told him, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck, resting her head against his shoulder once more, as the two stood in the foyer.  
  
“Wouldn’t dream of doing that, lass. Had to see you home safely,” he assured her.  
  
Juice cleared his throat, tapping at his wrist.  
  
“Lyla’s gonna stay with ye, help get ye settled in, alright?” Chibs told the girl, squeezing her hand gently.  
  
“You’re leaving?” she asked, voice small.  
  
“Club business. It can’t wait, love,” he replied, squeezing her hand again.  
  
“Okay,” she said lowly, nodding.  
  
“I’m glad you’re okay, Aub,” Juice told her, apologetically. “We shouldn’t be too long.”  
  
“It’s fine,” she said dully. “I’m tired, anyway.”

* * *

“So do we have any news on the bastard or what, Jax?” Clay asked, looking to his stepson.  
  
“San Bernardino's been tracking him the past few days. He’s back in LA. Doesn’t seem suspicious that anyone’s tailing him,” the blond reported.  
  
“So what’s the plan?” Tig asked. “Are they going to do the hit or-”  
  
“I’ll go down and handle it myself,” Chibs interrupted.  
  
“You’re not going down there alone,” Jax countered, frowning. “We don’t know enough about this guy yet. He’s got connects with the Irish and AB. Who knows what other ties he has.”  
  
“Any more intel, Juicy?” Clay asked, turning to the youngest at the table.  
  
“He’s living with some girl in a loft in the Silver Lake area,” he offered.  
  
“Any sort of pattern in his behavior the boys down there have picked up on, Jackie boy?” Chibs asked, gaze murderous. “We want to make sure we can lure him somewhere secluded to handle this shite. I don’t want it to be somethin’ that can be traced to us… or to her.”  
  
“He’s got a point,” Tig noted, frowning.  
  
“Let’s give them a few more days, see if they pick up any routine of his that we can use to our advantage,” Jax replied.  
  
Chibs opened his mouth to protest, Jax quickly interrupting him. “Look. I know you’re angry, I know you want to rip this creep in half for what he did. But we gotta be smart about this. We can wait a few days. When we have a better idea of what we’re getting into, we’ll handle it. Alright, brother?”  
  
Chibs frowned, but nodded. “Aye,” he conceded.

* * *

”Aubree.”  
  
_Silence_.  
  
“Aub.”  
  
_Silence_.  
  
“Ye alrigh’ lass?”  
  
Aubree lay curled up on her side, vaguely aware that someone was speaking to her. Still, she could not bring herself to lift her head up, couldn’t be bothered to open her mouth to offer a half-hearted response. She tensed slightly, feeling the mattress shift due to the weight of another body. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the pain to cease. _It hurts_. Everything hurt. Her body ached mercilessly, more than she knew it should. _The bruising wasn’t this bad. Everything shouldn’t hurt so much_. She’d been horrified when drying off after her shower to find the towel stained crimson red, the metallic scent of blood choking her. She’d tossed the towel into the laundry bin, pulling on a silk slip before crawling into bed, where she’d remained since. She was aware that this was a possibility; the doctors had warned her, told her that there may be residual bleeding from her internal injuries. She’d hoped they were wrong. She’d popped a handful of vicodin hours before, the medication only dulling the thudding pain in her innards to a barely tolerable level. She’d laid in a fetal position for hours, the pain too much when she lay flat on her back. She tensed as she felt a familiar callused hand on her shoulder. She took a deep breath. _Just respond. He’s worried. Tell him that you’re alright._  
  
“It hurts,” she said finally, too spent to even muster the effort necessary to lie.  
  
“I know. I’m sorry, lass,” he told her, pressing a gentle kiss to her neck, sending chills down her spine.  
  
“Thought you’d be home sooner,” she mumbled, her words thick. It took her several moments to realize that she’d begun to cry, fat tears trickling down her cheeks.  
  
“I’m sorry, lass. I shouldae left sooner. Got caught up with some club business,” he apologized, snaking an arm around her waist.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she choked out, burying her face in her hands.  
  
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”  
  
“I’m so… I didn’t want you to… to see me like this…” she trailed off, curling further into herself. She hissed as a sharp pain jolted through her, the result of her sudden movement.  
  
“Aubree.”  
  
She shook her head, the room silent, save for her stuttered breathing, chest heaving as she gasped for breath, tears continuing to flow mercilessly.  
  
“When’s the last time you took your pain meds?” he asked softly, gently carding his fingers through her hair.  
  
“I don’t know,” she mumbled.  
  
“Want me to get them for you?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Reluctantly, she struggled to reposition herself upright, knowing better than to attempt to swallow pills while curled up on her side. She offered Chibs a grateful smile as he handed her three white pills and a glass of water. She swallowed down the medication, handing him back the water. “Filip,” she started, reaching for his free hand.  
  
He looked at her, waiting for her to continue. “Thanks,” she said finally, pushing down the three words that had come to mind as he’d looked at her with such concern in his eyes.  
  
She curled back up on her side, allowing him to curl up beside her, pulling her close to him. “This okay?” he asked, arm snaked once more around her waist.  
  
“Mhmm.”  
  
“Get some rest, lass. It’s late.”

* * *

“You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” Aubree muttered, curled up under a blanket on the couch, glass of whiskey in hand.  
  
“Chibs doesn’t want you alone,” Juice retorted, shrugging. “Come on, is my company that bad?”  
  
“No, I suppose not,” she agreed, sighing. She grabbed her prescription bottle of vicodin, popping a few in her mouth.  
  
“How are you feeling?”  
  
Aubree shrugged.  
  
“You taken your meds yet?” he asked.  
  
Aubree shrugged again. “I don’t remember.”  
  
“You really shouldn’t be drinking while on antibiotics, Aub,” Juice noted, returning from the kitchen, medicine bottles in hand.  
  
“That’s a myth, Juice. Alcohol doesn’t interfere with the medication’s ability to fight infection. All it can cause is increased nausea and stomach pain,” the redhead retorted, swirling the ice in her glass.  
  
“Seems like reason enough to avoid drinking for a few days,” he replied, sighing.  
  
“Not when you’re nauseated enough for the sheer quantity of antibiotics you’re on. I’m going to throw it up, anyway, Juice. May as well have a drink to take my mind off how _crappy_ I feel right now.”  
  
“This one says you need to eat with it. You want crackers or something?”  
  
“Sure,” she replied dully.  
  
Dutifully, she swallowed down the six pills presented to her by Juice, munching on a handful of saltines afterward. “Happy now?” she hissed, rolling her eyes.  
  
About a half hour in, the nausea began to kick in. “Juice,” she said quietly, grabbing the man’s attention.  
  
“You okay?” he asked, concerned by her change in tone.  
  
“Talk to me, okay?”  
  
“About what?”  
  
“I don’t know… anything. I just … I need a distraction. I need to try and keep these meds down a little longer and it’ll help if you just talk,” she explained, fidgeting with the hem of her blanket.  
  
“What kind of music do you like?” she asked, prompting him.  
  
“Oh you know… a lot of different things,” he said, shrugging. “Metal. There was some pretty cool post-hardcore bands from back home that I listened to. Rap. You know, the usual.”  
  
“What bands do you like?” she asked, genuinely interested.  
  
“Thursday is pretty cool. Chibs makes fun of me when I play their stuff at the clubhouse or in the van… thinks it’s lame that I listen to screamy music,” he noted, smiling self-deprecatingly.  
  
“I like screamo bands,” Aubree admitted, a thin smile playing on her lips.  
  
“Really?” Juice asked, excited.  
  
“Mhm,” she nodded, laughing. “If it makes you feel better, Filip laughs at me, too. He came home from a run to find me in the kitchen, cleaning and blasting Boys Night Out. He asked me what bloody rubbish I was listening to.”  
  
“Because he has such great taste in music, right?” Juice replied, laughing.  
  
Aubree smirks. “Sometimes he plays weird Scottish bands and I have no idea what the fuck they’re saying.”  
  
“I can barely understand _him_ when he’s all worked up,” Juice admitted. “His accent gets so heavy when he’s angry, I have to sit there and try to piece together what he says and try to make sense of it.”  
  
“I guess I’m lucky I haven’t seen him that angry,” Aubree replied, shaking her head. “Though I’ll tell you, a semester in Ireland definitely helped my ability to understand that sort of accent.”  
  
“Where is Filip, anyway?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be with him and the others if there’s club business to attend to?”  
  
“He and a few of the others drove down to LA,” Juice replied with forced casualness.  
  
Aubree felt bile rising in her throat, a combination of Juice’s statement and the antibiotics coursing through her system. She rose to her feet, marching to the downstairs bathroom. Not bothering to shut the door, she fell to her knees, completely oblivious to the hair hanging in her face as she began to retch into the toilet.  
  
“What’s the matter, are you okay?” Juice asked, panicked.  
  
Aubree ignored him, continuing to heave until her stomach was empty. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, frowning as she saw that she’d gotten vomit in her hair. “What the fuck,” she muttered under her breath, wiping the sick from her hand on her leggings.  
  
“Aub?”  
  
“I told you the meds make me nauseous. Thanks for distracting me. You did a good job,” she told him, distractedly, as she observed herself in the mirror, pulling her hair into a messy bun atop her head.  
  
“Do you want to brush your teeth or something?” Juice asked, in an attempt to be helpful.  
  
“It’s not good to brush your teeth immediately after puking, Juice. Bad for the enamel,” she retorted, rinsing her mouth with a swig of water from the sink.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah,” she retorted, shoving him lightly from the doorway. “Come on, let’s go sit down. I’m getting dizzy,” she instructed, leading him back towards the living room.  
  
“So,” she started, grabbing her pack of cigarettes from off the coffee table and lighting one, “what are they doing in LA?”  
  
“Just handling some business,” he retorted, grabbing the pack and lighting up as well.  
  
“How much does he know, Juice?” Aubree asked, eyeing him stoically.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I know you’re the club’s intelligence officer. I know you’re insanely good at hacking. How much do _you_ know and how much have you told _him_ about me?”  
  
“He knows the prick used to pimp you out,” Juice replied, sighing heavily.  
  
“What the fuck,” she hissed, grabbing the empty tumbler of whiskey and slamming it back down on the table. “Why the fuck would you tell him that?”  
  
“He was pressing for information. He wanted to know… wanted to understand why you’re…” he trialed off, a hint of embarrassment flushing his cheeks.  
  
“Jesus Christ, he told you,” she muttered, taking a deep drag off her cigarette.  
  
“He needed to talk to someone,” he offered, shrugging. “Didn’t understand why a knockout like you would have so much trouble with being treated nicely.”  
  
“So you told him that my ex boyfriend used to beat me up, whored me out to his business partners because he was a shitty drug dealer who couldn’t do a goddamn thing without me cleaning up his messes.”  
  
“I told him you were abused before I had even looked up a single thing about you or that guy.”  
  
Aubree stared at him, unsure of how to respond.  
  
“My sister… well, my oldest sister… I have three of them,” Juice started, rubbing the back of his neck. “Her boyfriend wasn’t a great guy. Used to hit her. Beat her up really badly a couple of times. I know what she looked like, how she acted afterwards. So… it didn’t take much to put two and two together about you,” he concluded, sighing.  
  
“Are they there to kill him?” she asked, lips pressed firmly together.  
  
“Nah… just scoping out his whereabouts. Trying to make a firm plan. Chibs wants this handled right, no loose ends. Doesn’t want anything to happen where it could be tied back to you,” Juice retorted.  
  
Aubree nodded. “You know they can’t just make him disappear, right?”  
  
Juice looked at her, confused. “Why not? He’s a dealer… people like that come and go, disappear all the time. We could get rid of his body, easy. No one would be the wiser.”  
  
Aubree frowned. “Erin. That fucking _bitch_ ,” she paused, lips curled into a hateful snarl. “She’d pin this on me if he were to go missing. She hates me.”  
  
“There’d be no proof.”  
  
Aubree shook her head. “You don’t understand… there’s a lot of bad blood there.”  
  
Juice sighed. “It can’t be that bad.”  
  
Aubree scoffed. “You have no idea.”  
  
“So tell me.”  
  
“Oh god… he um… he started seeing her when I was like, twenty. She was seventeen. We were still living up here, while I was at Berkeley. I came home from class to find this underage bitch lying in my bed. I dragged her down three flights of steps by her hair. I wanted to beat her up so badly but… she was a minor. I couldn’t.”  
  
“Why did you stay with him?” Juice asked, brows furrowed in disgust.  
  
Aubree sighed. “I was in love with him. I didn’t… I don’t know. When you’re used to being treated badly, you accept whatever anyone’s willing to give you. I didn’t think I deserved better.”  
  
“So he was cheating on you for years.”  
  
“Yeah,” she agreed, shrugging. “We fought a few times. I broke her nose twice. I thought once we moved to LA it was over. I had a great job, was making great money,” she sighed. “I wanted to believe that the move was a fresh start for us. I thought he’d stop dealing, would just let me handle things. But of course he didn’t. And of course he was still seeing her.”  
  
“Why would she still have it out for you, though? She won, didn’t she? He left you for her,” Juice noted, confused.  
  
She shrugged. “She doesn’t love him… not like I did. She liked him because he was cute and older and gave her free drugs. She’s never been ready to put her life on the line for him. Not like I have. She resents that. He throws that in her face. ‘Oh, what the fuck good are you, Aubree would kill for me,’ he’ll tell her when they have fights. She and I had at it several times while I was still living down there. She resents me because she knows that he _hates_ that she isn’t me.”  
  
“Wait did you just say kill-”  
  
“It’s just… not a good idea to do anything that will give Erin the upper hand. That’s all I’m saying,” Aubree interrupted, stubbing out her spent cigarette in the ashtray.  
  
“Have you ever killed someone, Aub?”  
  
She smirked. “Oh, I don’t know,” she retorted, shrugging. “Have you?”

* * *

“I’m going out of town for a few days. Gonnae have Juicy stay here with ye,” Chibs told her, packing a bag.  
  
“Going on a run?” she asked, watching him from her perch on the bed.  
  
“We’re taking care of it.”  
  
“I’ve got something for you,” she replied, rising to her feet.  
  
Chibs stopped what he was doing, watching as she began to dig through the closet she’d taken over, rummaging through boxes of shoes. “What ye got for me, lass?”  
  
“Something to help take care of that prick,” she replied, holding up a Glock 17 sealed in a plastic bag, triumphant.  
  
“We’ve got guns, love. Plenty of supplies at the armory,” he told her, shaking his head, amused.  
  
She smirked, shaking her head. “Oh, I know,” she agreed, taking a step closer, wrapping an arm around his neck. “But this is something special. Something I’ve been holding onto just for a special occasion like _this_.”  
  
“Is that so?” he asked her, pulling her closer, pressing a kiss to her lips.  
  
“Mhmm,” she agreed, deepening the kiss.  
  
“So wha’s so special about it, lass?”  
  
She grinned. “Oh… where do I start?” she sighed, eyes shining brightly with hatred. “Well,” she began, lips still curled into a sinister grin, “for starters, it’s still got the serial number on it.”  
  
She shook her head, laughing. “It’s registered in his brother’s name. One of his aliases. And it’s got his fingerprints on it,” she concluded.  
  
“You’re somethin’ else, lass,” Chibs laughed, pulling her close once again. “How’d you get your hands on this, anyway?”  
  
“He told me to get rid of it. He used it to get out of a mess with a supplier… got really bloody, you know? Was nervous about it being tied to him, so he gave me the gun and told me to get rid of it,” she replied, shrugging.  
  
Chibs nodded, taking the bag from out of her hands. “You want me to do it with this?”  
  
Aubree nodded. “Make it look like a suicide. It’s better for everyone if you do. It’s got his prints on it, it’ll be traced back to him… just… leave the body somewhere. Make sure it’s believable. Keeps it off us, you know?”  
  
“You sure about this, lass?” he asked, eyeing her carefully.  
  
She nodded. “Kill the bastard, Filip.”  
  
“Ye know I will.”


	11. Chapter 11

Miserably, Aubree followed Tara through the corridors of St. Thomas, Juice following several paces behind. After attempting to bail on her follow-up appointment, Tara had driven to her house and physically dragged her to the hospital, insistent that she follow through. “Chibs will be furious if you don’t get looked over. You need to make sure that everything’s healing properly. And you need to be retested,” the brunette lectured her.  
  
Aubree rolled her eyes. “I know.”  
  
To her disgust, Tara joined her in the exam room. “I don’t need a babysitter in here, Tar,” she muttered. “Juice is right outside, waiting.”  
  
“Do you really want to be alone?” she queried.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Alright then.”  
  
Aubree sighed, remaining silent except when spoken to directly as Dr. Fletcher performed his follow-up examination.  
  
“Have you had intercourse in the past two weeks?” he asked, as he collected a sample to retest her for STDs.  
  
“No,” she huffed, shaking her head. At Chibs’ insistence, she hadn’t yet returned to Cara Cara. Nor had he been willing to have sex with her, despite her best efforts to convince him otherwise.  
  
“Everything seems to be healing nicely. How has your pain been?”  
  
“It’s been fine,” Aubree lied. While the pain in her nether region was nowhere near as bad as it had been initially, there was still a dull ache likely related to her bruised cervix.  
  
“You’ve lost eight pounds in the past two weeks,” Dr. Fletcher noted, eyeing her curiously.  
  
Aubree shrugged. “That’s not really surprising, is it? I’ve been on three antibiotics. Anytime I took them, it made me completely nauseated. It was a struggle to keep the meds down, they made me so sick.”  
  
Tara and Dr. Fletcher exchanged looks. “While that may be so….” he started, glancing down at her medical file.  
  
“I’m not starving myself if that’s what you’re getting at,” Aubree huffed, rolling her eyes.  
  
“We weren’t suggesting that you were-”  
  
“Or purposely making myself puke. I’m just… I’m stressed out. The meds are making me sick. I think it’s relatively normal for someone who was raped to lose a few pounds as a result, wouldn’t you say?”  
  
Tara sighed. “We just think that given your prior-”  
  
“Oh for _fuck’s_ sake,” she snapped, cutting the brunette off. “I am dealing with a traumatic experience, okay? The fact that you think it’s appropriate to even bring _that_ up, is bullshit. The _last_ thing on my mind was turning to that shit to cope,” she paused, smirking, “but now that you mention it, maybe I’ll keep it in mind. Since everyone’s so quick to jump on my fucking case about it.”  
  
“Sorry,” Tara murmured, apologetic. “I was just worried. I know you’ve been through a lot. I wanted to help.”  
  
“You can help me by clearing me to go back to work,” Aubree huffed.  
  
“Everything looks good, you’re healing normally. You can resume normal sexual activity,” Dr. Fletcher replied, scribbling something down on her file.  
  
Aubree redressed, purposely ignoring Tara’s pleading looks.  
  
“Aubree, I’m sorry.”  
  
“Yeah. You should be. You didn’t even come to me, ask me about it. What the fuck is that shit?” she replied, frowning.  
  
“You’re right. I should have come to you about it. I’m sorry. I just… I know people who have really fucked up their lives with that shit. I saw that in your file and just panicked. I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Aubree sighed, pulling her hair up, tying it into a messy bun. “Just… don’t meddle with my personal business without coming to me first, okay?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
The two exited the exam room, finding Juice in the waiting room, rapidly texting someone.  
  
“How’d it go?” he asked, glancing up at the two women.  
  
“Cleared to work,” Aubree retorted, grinning.  
  
“Any word on when the guys will be back?” Tara asked lowly, looking expectantly at Juice.  
  
“Hopefully tomorrow,” he replied, equally as quiet.  
  
Aubree and Tara nodded. “Good.”  
  
“So where to, now?” Juice asked, once the pair had exited the hospital.  
  
“Guess we might as well head up to Cara Cara. I need to talk to Luann about getting back to work.”  
  
“Did you text Chibs, let him know you’re good to go?” Juice asked.  
  
Aubree shrugged. “Don’t want to bother him. I know they’re busy.”  
  
“Fair enough.”

* * *

“How are you feeling?” Luann asked, pulling Aubree into a deep embrace.  
  
“A lot better,” she replied, smiling.  
  
“I’m glad you had the good sense to take two weeks off. I was worried I was going to have to follow you around here, making sure you didn’t try to get back into the swing of things too soon,” she told the redhead, laughing.  
  
“Filip was pretty insistent.”  
  
“Good. See, _that’s_ the way a man should treat ya, Aub. A good man looks after his girl, makes sure she’s taken care of.”  
  
Aubree rolled her eyes. “I guess you have a point,” she agreed.  
  
“So you’re cleared to get back to work?” Luann asked.  
  
Aubree nodded. “Yep. Clear to resume regular activity,” she affirmed.  
  
“Are you feeling up to getting back in front of the camera?”  
  
Aubree paused. “I am… I just…” she trailed off, frowning.  
  
“Aubree, it’s okay if you’re not ready. I know what happened was awful, I can’t imagine how you’re feeling-”  
  
“No, it’s not that,” Aubree interrupted, shaking her head. “This is…” she laughed, shaking her head, “this is going to sound so stupid…”  
  
Luann nodded, waiting for her to continue.  
  
“I don’t want to shoot anything involving… penetration… until Filip’s back,” Aubree said lowly, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Luann nodded, smirking.  
  
“We haven’t… since before the _incident_ ,” Aubree elaborated, gesturing vaguely with her left hand. “I think I owe him that much.. for him to be the one to…”  
  
“So you want to fuck his brains out before you go back to taking dick for a living,” Luann replied, shaking her head, bemused.  
  
“Is that okay?” Aubree asked, biting her lower lip.  
  
“Of course. I’ve got some foreplay scenes we can shoot, for now. We’ll block them out tomorrow, shoot the following day?”  
  
“Sounds great. Thanks.”  
  
“You want to clock some time on the web cams today? Your fanboys have been missing you since you’ve been gone,” Luann noted, tapping away at the keys on her laptop.  
  
“Of course. I’ll just get changed and get out there.”  
  
“Good to have you back, Aub.”

* * *

Aubree woke to the sound of the front door creaking open. A jolt of panic striking her, she reached over, digging through her nightstand drawer for her gun. She stopped once she heard Chibs’ familiar drawl, discussing something with Juice downstairs. _He’s home_ , she thought to herself, relieved. She squinted at the clock on the dresser, curious of the time. _3AM_. She toyed with the idea of rushing downstairs to greet him, but decided to bide her time. _Better to give him a proper welcome home, privately_.  
  
She lay in bed, impatiently waiting for him to come upstairs. She glanced at the clock; a half hour had passed, and still, nothing. Frowning, she threw the covers off of her, grabbing her robe from the floor. _Fine, if he won’t come to bed, I’ll get him myself._  
  
She quickly slipped down the stairs, finding Juice and Chibs seated at the kitchen table, drinking tea. “Can’t sleep?” she asked, drawing the pair’s attention.  
  
“Aubree,” Chibs greeted her, rising to his feet, pulling her into an embrace.  
  
“I was waiting for you to come up… you took too damn long,” she murmured, biting his neck.  
  
“Didnae want to wake ye. Juicy said you’d gone to bed early,” he replied, smirking.  
  
Aubree rolled her eyes. “I’m a light sleeper… I heard you come in.”  
  
“I should head out,” Juice said loudly, clearing his throat.  
  
“Thank ye for lookin’ after her for me, Juicy,” Chibs said, thanking the younger man.  
  
“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he replied, making toward the front door.  
  
“So,” Aubree drawled, eyeing Chibs hungrily, “do you want to talk first, or do you want to fuck me?”  
  
“Is that even a question?” he laughed, grabbing her hand, tugging her towards the stairs.  
  
“I’ve missed you,” she told him, squeezing his hand.  
  
“I missed ye too, lass.”

* * *

Once safely inside the bedroom, Aubree began to tear at his clothes, impatient.  
  
“Easy, lass, I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he laughed, teasing her.  
  
“It’s been too long,” she retorted, pulling him towards her, teeth clattering together as she kissed him hungrily.  
  
He shoved her down on the mattress, throwing her legs over his shoulders, swiftly entering her.  
  
“Fuck,” she cried out, clawing at the sheets as he fucked her hard, his pace rapid.  
  
“Yes, god fucking damn it, yes,” she cried, writhing as he tugged at her hair, his teeth digging into the soft flesh of her shoulder. “God, Filip, I missed you so much, _fuck_!”  
  
Afterwards, the two lay side by side, Aubree’s head resting on his chest, panting heavily as they caught their breath.  
  
“Yer somethin’ else, ye know tha’, lass?” he asked, gently stroking her arm.  
  
“Mhmm,” Aubree mumbled, smiling lightly as she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.  
  
“Didn’t hurt ye, did I?”  
  
Aubree shook her head. “No. No it was perfect. Exactly what I needed. God, I’ve been waiting _forever_ to have you, again.”  
  
Chibs smirked, kissing her gently on the lips. He mumbled something in Gaelic, his voice barely audible.  
  
“I guess I can go back to work, now. I’ve been just working the web cams and doing some foreplay videos, waiting for you to come home,” she told him, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.  
  
“Is that so?” he asked, carding his fingers through her hair.  
  
“Didn’t want to… not until I could have you again,” she whispered, nuzzling against him.  
  
Chibs laughed. “I’ve no complaints about tha’, lass.”  
  
“So… how did it go, down in LA?”  
  
“Took a few days longer than I would have liked it to, but it’s finished with. We handled it.”  
  
“So he’s-”  
  
“Aye. I made sure the bastard got what he deserved, lass.”  
  
“And it won’t be…”  
  
“No. Jackie Boy got a call from the San Bernardino chapter shortly after we got back. Their inside contact says the LAPD is ruling it as a suicide. They’re running prints on the gun, just to be sure, but there’s been no mention of you or the Sons.”  
  
“Did he try and fight back?”  
  
“Didnae give ‘im a chance to… we planned it pretty well, caught him off-guard, alone, after making a pickup from his supplier. Happy and one of the San Bernardino brothers grabbed him, dragged him into a van.”  
  
“Did he have any last words, the prick?” she asked icily.  
  
“Ye don’ wantae hear all the gory details do ye?”  
  
“If it has to do with him, yes.”  
  
“He tried pleading. Swearin’ up an’ down tha’ ye wouldn’ wan’ this, ye wouldn’ wan’ him to die. He shut up quickly when he saw the gun, though,” Chibs elaborated, continuing to stroke her hair.  
  
“He got real quiet when I waved tha’ in his face. Told ‘im you’d been holdin’ onto it for just this purpose.”  
  
“So you were the one who… who shot him?” she asked.  
  
“Aye. I told ye, lass, I take care of what’s mine. I told ye I’d handle it, make sure he ne’r laid his filthy hands on ye again.”  
  
Aubree nodded. Again, she found the words _I love you_ lingering on her lips, but bit her tongue, holding them back. “Thank you,” she said instead, kissing him slowly, passionately. “No one has ever… just… thank you.”


	12. Chapter 12

Aubree froze, staring at the sight before her. Filip, lying in a hospital bed, a woman seated beside him, squeezing his hand. “Your husband will be fine,” the doctor said, the words ringing hollowly in Aubree’s ears.  
  
Clenching her jaw, she turned and began walking, eager to put as much distance between her and what she’d seen as possible. She inhaled sharply, willing herself to stay calm. _Do not cry here. You can cry at home. Or in the car. Not here. Not where people will see_. She stopped dead in her tracks, realization dawning on her. _You don’t have a home, you stupid cunt. You moved in with him_.  
  
“Aubree,” a familiar voice called out.  
  
“Yes, Juice,” she replied, her voice void of emotion.  
  
“Where are you going, they’re gonna let us see him-”  
  
“I have to go, Juice,” she interrupted, pulling away from him and continuing down the hall.  
  
“Aubree, wait,” he called out, following her.  
  
“Juice let go of me!” she snapped, pulling her arm away from his grasp. Tears pooled in her eyes, threatening to drop at any moment.  
  
“What’s the matter, what happened?”  
  
Tears beginning to flow, she shook her head, turning her back to him and continuing down the hallway, towards the stairs.  
  
“Guess she found out about Fiona,” Gemma observed, startling Juice.  
  
“Fi’s here?” Juice asked, perplexed.  
  
Gemma nodded grimly. “Yeah. The bitch has been posted up at his bedside since they moved him out of recovery.”  
  
“Shit,” Juice swore, shaking his head.  
  
“You better go check on her, sweetheart. I’ll deal with this bitch,” Gemma noted, nodding toward the stairwell.  
  
“Right, right,” Juice agreed, nodding. 

* * *

Juice found Aubree in the parking lot of Cara Cara, sitting atop the hood of her car, smoking. Chain-smoking, it appeared, if the numerous cigarette butts littering the ground were any indication.  
  
“What?” she snapped, shooting him a filthy look.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“Why the fuck are you even here, Juice?” she sighed, shaking her head. “Filip’s in the hospital, you should be there with him, with the rest of your brothers.”  
  
“It’s not what it looks like.”  
  
“Oh, so he’s not married?” she snorted, rolling her eyes.  
  
“I thought you knew. They’ve been separated for years, now.”  
  
“I’m so fucking stupid,” she muttered, flicking ash from the cigarette in her hand.  
  
“He didn’t tell you?” Juice asked, taking a seat beside her.  
  
“Nope,” she confirmed, scowling. “Never came up. Anything else I should know?”  
  
Juice winced.  
  
“What?” she asked, eyeing him warily. “Tell me.”  
  
“They have a daughter.”  
  
“Jesus _fucking_ Christ,” she muttered, tossing her cigarette.  
  
“He loves you, you know.”  
  
She scoffed, busying herself with lighting another cigarette.  
  
“No, really. He’s been talking about making it official, divorcing Fi-”  
  
“You don’t need to say shit like that to try and make me feel better, Juice. I don’t know what I expected. I’m a fucking porn star who’s been fucking a biker. Jesus, I’m a sorry cliche,” she muttered, shaking her head.  
  
Juice put a hand on her shoulder, in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “Aub, come on. Don’t be like this.”  
  
“What the fuck was I thinking? Why’d I move in with him? I knew it was too soon. He has a wife, Juice. A _family_. A family he couldn’t be bothered to tell me about. I’m so fucking stupid.”  
  
“He hasn’t seen Fi in years, Aub. Not since he left Ireland.”  
  
“Oh, so he abandoned his wife and child to come here and hasn’t been back, since?” she asked, shaking her head in disgust. “It just gets better and better.”  
  
“Aub.”  
  
She ignored him, staring blankly ahead as she smoked cigarette after cigarette. After a while, she fumbled with her purse, procuring a fifth of Jack. Silently, she offered him the bottle, holding it out. Juice accepted, taking a swig. “Thanks.”  
  
Aubree nodded, taking a swig as well, before passing the bottle back. They continued that for some time, until the bottle was empty. “Why are you here, Juice?” she asked, her voice softer this time.  
  
“I wasn’t about the leave you alone, right now.”  
  
She sighed, shaking her head. “How is he?”  
  
“Stable. He’ll be out of commission for a while, but the doctors said he’ll be fine.”  
  
“Good,” she retorted, nodding sharply.  
  
“What exactly happened? All I got was the phone call from Jax saying there’d been an explosion. Didn’t get much of a chance to ask follow up questions once I got to the hospital…” she trailed off, eyes darkening in anger.  
  
“Car bomb. Not sure who’s responsible, yet.”  
  
Aubree nodded grimly. “He’s lucky to be alive.”  
  
Juice nodded. “He realized what it was… got out of the car before it went off.”  
  
“You should go see him. I’m sure he’s asking for you,” he told her, placing a hand over hers.  
  
“Why would he? He’s got his _wife_ there, holding his hand,” she muttered bitterly.

* * *

“Fiona, a word?” Gemma asked, arms folded against her chest.  
  
“What is it?” Fiona retorted, showing no inclination of leaving where she was seated.  
  
“He doesn’t need to hear this shit,” she replied coolly, nodding towards Chibs.  
  
“Anything you need to say, you can say right here,” Fiona retorted, her tone icy.  
  
“What the hell are you doing here, anyway?” Gemma questioned, frowning.  
  
“Jimmy’s here on business,” she replied, shrugging. “He’s my husband, Gemma. I want to make sure he’s okay.”  
  
“He’s not your husband, anymore, you Irish bitch.”  
  
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the cute little redhead who was peeking in through the doorway, would it?” Fiona asked, smirking.  
  
Gemma stared her down, eyes narrow slits.  
  
“That Filip’s new toy? She’s very pretty, I’ll give her that,” Fiona continued, shrugging. “He always did have good taste…. he didn’t tell her about me, I presume?”  
  
“Yeah,” Gemma affirmed.  
  
Fiona rolled her eyes. “Some old lady she’d make. I was half expecting her to storm in and start swinging.”  
  
“She’s not us,” Gemma countered, lips curled into a frown. “Maybe that’s why he likes her so much.”  
  
Fiona sighed. “Filip likes a strong woman.”  
  
“You know, Fi, I’ve always been curious,” Gemma growled, eyes flashing with hatred, “how long had you been screwing around behind his back with Jimmy before _that_ happened?” she asked, nodding in Chibs’ direction.  
  
“Watch yourself, Gemma,” Fiona said lowly, tongue clacking in disgust.  
  
“Now isn’t the time to play queen bitch, Fiona. He’s got an old lady, she should be the one here with him.”  
  
“I’m sure Filip will be more than happy to find his wife by his side when he wakes,” Fiona retorted, smugly.  
  
“You just can’t let him go, can you, Fi? Shacking up with the man who did _that_ to him just wasn’t enough for you, was it? Had to really twist the knife in deeper by stringing him along, keeping that goddamn ring on your finger,” Gemma scoffed, scowling.  
  
“At least I didn’t have my husband killed, Gem,” Fiona said coldly, shooting her a furious glare.  
  
“You should do him a favor… go back to your side of the ocean, you bitch,” Gemma replied, returning Fiona’s cold stare. “Funny coincidence, isn’t it? You just _happening_ to be in the country when this happens to him? What, did you finally decide to have Jimmy finish the job?”  
  
Fiona rose to her feet, lips curled into a snarl. “Le’s get somethin’ right here, _Gemma_ ,” she began, jabbing a finger accusingly at Gemma’s chest. “I got a phone call from the hospital, sayin’ me Filip, me husban’, was in a horrible accident. I begged Jimmy to let me come, ta make sure he’s alrigh’. Doesn’ matter wha’ happened, everythin’ wit’ Jimmy… I love Filip, always will.”  
  
“Yeah, nothing says I love you like having your sidepiece give your husband a Glasgow Smile, eh, Fi?” Gemma quipped, smirking.  
  
“Get out,” Fiona said lowly, reaching for the gun holstered on her hip. “Ye shouldnae be here, anyway. Family only.”  
  
“This club is more family to him than you’ve been in fourteen years, you Irish bitch.”  
  
“And yet I’m still listed as his wife in his emergency contacts,” Fiona smirked, holding her left hand up. “Guess tha’ tells ye enough abou’ where Filip’s heart is.”  
  
Gemma glared at her. “You’ll see when he wakes up. I promise. You’re old news, sweetheart. But hey, I’ll let _him_ break the news to you.”

* * *

Jax and Juice entered Chibs’ hospital room, expressions carefully neutral as they watched the scene unfold before them; Fiona at Chibs’ side, fingers laced with his, the two exchanging words in their Gaelic tongue. Juice looked away as the two shared a kiss.  
  
Jax cleared his throat, getting the pair’s attention.  
  
“Fiona,” he said, nodding coldly in her direction.  
  
“Jackson,” she replied just as coldly, placing a reassuring hand on her husband’s shoulder.  
  
“Think we can have a moment?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.  
  
“I think I’ll stay where I am,” she retorted, hardened eyes staring him down.  
  
“Does Jimmy know you’re here?” he asked, shaking his head. “Who am I kidding, of course he does. That explains the Irish goons out in the waiting room.”  
  
“Give me a minute with them, lass,” Chibs told Fiona, squeezing her hand.  
  
She nodded, glaring coldly at Juice and Jax as she left the room, slamming the door behind her.  
  
“How you feeling, brother?” Jax asked.  
  
He shrugged. “Like I jus’ got blown up, lad. Doc says I’ll live, though.”  
  
“So…. Fiona’s here,” Jax started, beginning to pace the room.  
  
“Aye.”  
  
“How the hell did she find out about this?” Jax pressed, looking at him expectantly.  
  
“I dunno. Ye know word travels fast, the circles we run in. Ne’r got around to taking her off as my emergency contact, either,” he retorted, shrugging.  
  
“Where’s Aubree?” Chibs asked, realization dawning on him. “Fi caught me off guard, wasn’ expecting to find her here when I woke.”  
  
He watched as Juice and Jax exchanged looks.  
  
“She found out about Fi?” he asked, sighing.  
  
The two men nodded in affirmation.  
  
“How pissed off is she?” Chibs asked, eyeing Juice warily.  
  
“She’s not _that_ pissed,” he replied, sighing.  
  
Chibs turned to Jax, who shook his head. “She’s pissed, man. Really pissed. You should have told her about Fiona.”  
  
“Aye. I should have.”  
  
“Where is she?” he asked.  
  
“Cara Cara. Ope’s got Lyla looking after her,” Jax replied, sighing heavily.  
  
“I tried getting her to come up here,” Juice started, sighing as well. “She doesn’t want to see you right now.”  
  
“Shite,” he muttered, rubbing his face brusquely. “How’d she find out?”  
  
“Mom said she saw Fi holding your hand in here, that’s all I know,” Jax offered.  
  
“She heard the doctor call you Fiona’s husband. She was pretty upset about it,” Juice added.  
  
“Juicy here didn’t make things any better, telling her about Kerrianne,” Jax noted, rolling his eyes in Juice’s direction.  
  
Chibs nodded, shaking his head. “I meant to tell her,” he said lowly, shrugging. “Didnae want to scare ‘er off. Bad enough I’m old as shite. Married, too? With a kid? Why’d she want to be wit’ someone like me, anyway?”  
  
“Because she loves you, you Scottish prick. You must be as dumb as you are old if you can’t see that,” Jax retorted brusquely.  
  
Chibs nodded. “Aye.”  
  
“You’re gonna have to make things right with her, brother. She was trying to force Juicy here to pack up all her shit so she could split, go back to LA.”  
  
“I didn’t, obviously,” Juice elaborated.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing, anyway, man? Cozying up with Fiona? Didn’t you learn the first time how well that worked out for you?” Jax asked, scowling.  
  
“She’s my wife, Jackie Boy. I was with ‘er since I was eighteen. She’s the mother of my child. I’m always gonnae love ‘er,” he replied, shrugging.  
  
“You should have told her about Fi, man. That’s all I’m gonna say.”  
  
“She won’ come see me?” he asked quietly.  
  
“Give her some time, bro. She’ll calm down. I’m gonna check in on her a little later, try and get her to at least go home, get a decent night’s sleep in her own bed,” Juice told him, clapping him lightly on the shoulder.  
  
“Look after her for me, will ye, lad?” he asked.  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“Ye wanna ask Fi to come back in here?”  
  
Juice eyed him curiously. “You sure that’s a good idea, Chibs?”  
  
He nodded. “Me and her need to exchange words. I’m gonna ask her to sign th’ papers, already.”  
  
Juice and Jax shot him confused looks. “Papers?”  
  
“I had the lawyer write up divorce papers a couple o’ weeks ago. May as well have ‘er sign ‘em while she’s in the states.”  
  
“Might wanna wait a few days before throwing that bombshell on her, Chibs. Fiona’s got a temper.”  
  
“Think I don’t know tha’, lad?” he retorted, rolling his eyes. “Ye got my phone, Juicy?” he asked, looking expectantly at the younger man.  
  
“Yeah,” he agreed, tossing Chibs his burner phone.  
  
“Don’t be surprised if she doesn’t take your calls, bro. She’s pretty angry,” Jax told him, shrugging. “Give her some time.”

* * *

“So,” Fiona started, pulling at a loose thread on her sweater sleeve, “tha’ redhead’s yer new playthin’ is she, Filip?”  
  
“Don’ call ‘er tha’, Fi,” Chibs retorted, frowning.  
  
“She’s very pretty,” Fi observed, a single eyebrow raised.  
  
“Aye.”  
  
“How long ye been seein’ this one, Filip?” she asked, arms folded against her chest.  
  
“A little under a year, I s’pose,” he replied, shrugging.  
  
“Didnae think ta tell her abou’ me?”  
  
“It never came up.”  
  
Fiona snorted. “Yer a numpty, Lip. Shouldae told her.”  
  
“There’s already been enough shite goin’ on, wit’ the club an’ some other things, I didnae want to throw that on ‘er as well,” he retorted, shaking his head. “I shouldae told her, though. Yer right.”  
  
“Disappointed she ran off like dat. I’d expected a wee more fight in a lass ye’d fancy, Lip.”  
  
Fi laughed, grabbing her husband’s hand. “Don’t tell me after all dese years ye gone soft on me, Filip.” She paused, considering. “Well, _softer_.”  
  
He sighed. “Ye hated tha’ abou’ me. S’pose you’d a preferred I’d been a good soldier, let the IRA kill me or die for the cause.”  
  
Fiona stared at him, disbelievingly. “Filip-”  
  
“S’pose ye wouldae preferred Jimmy’d finished th’ job, eh? At least then ye’d have a husband to be proud of, eh? Instead of this? Yer failure of a husban’, sent away from ‘is own country, leaving ye to raise my girl wit’ tha’ Irish prick-”  
  
“Don’t say that,” Fiona hissed. “I loved ye Filip. Why’d ye tink I let ye go? He wouldae killed ye if ye’d stayed. I wasn’ abou’ to lose ye, let ‘im kill me Kerrianne’s Da.”  
  
“Fi, I don’t want to talk about this wit’ ye,” he sighed.  
  
“Gemma said she’s yer ol’ lady,” Fi noted, attempting to change the subject.  
  
Filip looked down. “Somethae like tha’. I haven’ asked her to wear my crow, yet. Doubt she’ll want to, now.”  
  
“Fi,” he sighed, running his hands through his hair.  
  
“Careful, you’ve got a head injury,” she scolded, smacking his hand.  
  
“I need ta tell ye somethin’,” he retorted, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
“Wha’s that, Lip?”  
  
“I want a divorce.”  
  
She stared at him, lips pursed tightly together. “An’ why is dat, Filip? Why now? Fourteen years apar’ and now all of a sudden, ye want a divorce? Why?”  
  
“We shouldae done it a long time ago, Fi. We’ve been apart o’er a decade,” he retorted.  
  
“An’ if I refuse? Yer me husband, Lip. You can’t jus’ decide ta leave me for some American _tart_ tha’ caught yer fancy-”  
  
“Ye think I didn’t know ye were screwin’ around wit’ Jimmy, Fi? Ye think I’m that _daft_?” he hissed, his words cold, dangerous.  
  
“Lip-”  
  
“I love ye, Fi. Always will. Yer th’ mother of my Kerrianne, me first love. Bu’ it’s time ta move on, love.”  
  
Fi glared at him, shaking her head. “Ye love her?”  
  
“Aye.”  
  
Fiona sighed. “I know I wasn’ the best wife ta ye, Filip. But I do love ye. I’ll think abou’ it, alrigh’?”  
  
He stared at her, pleadingly. “Fi… ye know as well as I do tha’ this has been over for years now. We ain’t kids playin’ house in Belfast, anymore.”  
  
Fi nodded in agreement, blinking away tears that had begun to form in her eyes. “Aye… yer righ’, Lip. Doesn’ change ta fact… give me some time, yeah?”  
  
“Sure, sure… thank ye, lass.”  
  
“The girl… what’s her name?” she asked, curious.  
  
“Aubree. Aubree Burke,” he replied, smiling slightly at the mention of her.  
  
“She make ye happy?”  
  
“Aye. She’s a good girl. Smart. Stubborn as all hell.”  
  
“Ye should call her, Lip.”  
  
“Ye think I haven’t tried? She’s not answering the phone. Rings once and goes to voice-mail,” he retorted.  
  
“The lads will go round and speak tae her. She’ll come around.”  
  
He shrugged. “Yeah, right. Ye want to let me rest for a while, Fi? My head is killin’ me. Goddamn pain meds are wearing off,” he muttered, looking wearier than she’d ever seen him.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she sighed, rising to her feet, gently stroking his cheek, wincing slightly, guiltily, at the feeling of his scar beneath her fingertips. “I’ll talk to ‘er, Lip. Get her to come see ye, alright?”  
  
“Ye don’ have ta do tha’, Fi.”  
  
“Get some rest, Lip,” she told him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.


	13. Chapter 13

“You shouldn’t be performing if you’re upset, Aub,” Lyla tsked, shaking her head.  
  
“I need the distraction,” Aubree muttered, fussing with the straps of her costume.  
  
“Have you even talked to him since the accident?” she asked.  
  
“ _No_. Wouldn’t want to interrupt his little _family reunion_ ,” she spat, turning her attention to the lines of cocaine broken out on her dressing table. With practiced ease, she leaned forward, inhaling two lines in rapid succession. She breathed in deeply, savoring the initial rush of her high.  
  
“Ope says he keeps asking for you, Aub-”  
  
“Do you want me to share my blow or not?” she interrupted, frowning.  
  
Lyla rolled her eyes, accepting the rolled up dollar bill from Aubree. “Will you at least admit that you’re upset?” she asked, leaning forward to do a line.  
  
Aubree shot her a pointed look, taking the rolled up bill from the blonde’s hand. Mechanically, she snorted another line, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “You filming today?” she asked.  
  
Lyla nodded. “You’ve gotta be on set in ten,” she reminded her, pointing a manicured finger at the clock.  
  
“Got it,” Aubree replied, finishing the last of the coke. She glanced at her phone as it began to vibrate, scanning the name of the caller. Rolling her eyes, she hit ignore, slamming the phone back down.  
  
“Chibs?” Lyla asked.  
  
Aubree shook her head. “Jax.”  
  
Lyla sighed. “You may as well answer _his_ calls. The guys are just going to come down here and force you to speak to them if you keep refusing to answer their calls.”  
  
Aubree shrugged. “So let them come. I already told Juice, I have _nothing_ to say to him. Let his wife comfort him,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “I have to get on set. I’ll come watch you film when I’m done.”  
  
She turned back, considering the remaining bit of coke left in a vial, hidden in one of the drawers. “You should really lay off the coke, Aub. Have you even been sleeping?” Lyla asked, a hint of concern in her tone.  
  
“I’m fine, Ly. How do you think I got through law school?”  
  
“The longer you hold it off, the harder you’re gonna crash…”  
  
Aubree shrugged. “I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

* * *

Aubree stared blankly ahead, arms bound together behind her back, barely aware of her surroundings, save for the steady rhythm of Erik, her co-star for the day, pounding into her, his grip on her hips veering just slightly on the side of painful. A hiss escaped her lips as her hipbones slammed down against the desk she was bent over, the shock pulling her back to reality. “Fucking slut,” Erik shouted at her, punctuating his statement with a sharp slap of his palm across her right asscheek.  
  
“Take it, you stupid bitch. Take it.”  
  
Aubree shut her eyes, willing her thoughts to shut off, her usual tactic of handling her work. _I’ve never had a problem shutting down, just letting it happen_. She knew she was on edge; she had been since she’d received the news about Filip, since… she frowned, dismissing the thought. _Since you found out he’s married. That once again, you’re someone’s consolation prize_. She bit her lip, shaking her head, receiving a sharp slap across her left asscheek for her sudden movement.  
  
She took another deep breath, willing the tears pooling in her eyes to stop. She hissed lowly as Erik shoved her forcefully against the desk once more, the pain of bone hitting wood jolting through her system. _I’m going to have some nasty bruises from this scene_ , she thought miserably. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, struggling to focus on anything but the steady ache in her arms, beginning to throb mercilessly from being tided behind her back into an unnatural position. Silently, she began to cry, tears trickling down her pale cheeks. Involuntarily, her body began to shake, a result of her attempt at silencing her tears.  
  
She bit her lip, keeping herself quiet as Erik increased his pace, each thrust resulting in her hips being slammed against the edge of desk. She winced from the pain, squeezing her eyes shut, hoping that he would _hurry up_ and finish soon. Expertly, Erik pulled out, releasing his seed across her back. She cringed; she _hated_ when her co-stars came on her. She’d rather swallow or have them cum in her. She hated having to scrub dried semen off her skin. It itched and made her feel even worse than she usually did about her “career.”  
  
“Are you crying?” Erik asked, breaking character.  
  
Aubree said nothing in response, save for emitting a low sob.  
  
“Cut,” Luann called out, striding from behind the camera towards the two.  
  
“What the hell is going on?” she asked, looking from Erik to Aubree.  
  
“I don’t know, I felt her shaking, looked over her shoulder and saw she was crying… ” Erik offered, shrugging.  
  
“Aubree? Are you okay?” she asked, turning to the redhead.  
  
“Yeah,” she choked out, nodding. “Just give me a second,” she continued, struggling to pull herself up from her position bent over the desk.  
  
“You’re crying.”  
  
“It’s fine… it’s, it’s nothing, Luann.”  
  
Luann frowned. “I knew I should have rescheduled the shoot. You shouldn’t be on set right now. Not when you’re like this.”  
  
“I’m not _like_ anything,” she sobbed, shaking her head furiously.  
  
“Let’s get you untied. We got what we needed for the shoot,” Luann retorted, offering the younger woman a sympathetic look.  
  
Aubree sighed in relief as her arms were untied. She rolled her shoulders, wincing slightly from the pain as she attempted to loosen her stiff muscles.  
  
“You should go home, sweetheart. A nice hot bath should help with the pain,” Luann told her, a gentle hand on her shoulder.  
  
Aubree shrugged, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. “I’m fine, Luann. Honestly. I’m gonna go get changed…” she mumbled, slinking away from the older woman, towards her dressing room.

* * *

Aubree stared at her reflection, twisting the belt of her robe between her fingers. _Ly is right… you’re going to be miserable when you come down_. She sighed, rolling her shoulders, wincing from the pain. “Fuck,” she swore. She was in more pain than she’d expected. She reached for the bottle of vodka, taking a swig directly from the bottle. She grabbed her phone, scrolling through the list of missed calls. There were eight missed calls from Filip, four from Jax. She clicked on messages, reviewing the list of unread messages. Filip had texted her multiple times… a total of two hundred and forty-seven times, to be exact, since the first time she’d ignored his call after… she shook her head, tears beginning to flow once more. She stared at the phone, finger hovering over Filip’s name. _Could at least read the messages, see what he has to say for himself_ … she dropped the phone onto the table, burying her face in her hands.  
  
“You shouldn’t be here.”  
  
Aubree glanced up, finding Luann standing in the doorway, arms folded against her chest.  
  
“I’m fine, Luann. Really. I just want to work, to keep busy.”  
  
“Gemma said Fiona’s in town... guess you two met?”  
  
Aubree looked up at the older woman, eyes blazing with hatred. “You knew, didn’t you?”  
  
Luann sighed, opening her mouth to speak.  
  
“You knew, and you didn’t tell me. How could you?”  
  
“Aubree-”  
  
“I guess this is what you meant by Chibs not having an old lady, not really, huh? You meant that he had a wife, right?” she shrieked, accusingly.  
  
“Aubree, he hasn’t seen that women in over a decade.”  
  
“Yet she magically reappeared by her side as soon as he was put into the hospital,” Aubree retorted, tears beginning to well in her eyes.  
  
“Honey, I’m sorry. I thought he would tell you.”  
  
“Well he didn’t!” she screamed, the tears beginning to flow.  
  
“Oh sweetheart,” Luann sighed, pulling the redhead into an embrace. “Shhh… I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”  
  
“I fucking… I almost… I almost told him I _love_ him. What the fuck was I thinking? He’s married, Luann. I’m not a fucking home wrecker.”  
  
“You should go home, Aubree. Get some rest.”  
  
“I can’t go back there. I’m not sleeping in his house. It was stupid of me, so fucking stupid, to move in with him. I must be insane,” she muttered, shaking her head, tears continuing to trickle down her cheeks.  
  
“You can stay at mine, if you’d like,” she offered.  
  
Aubree shook her head no. “No, it’s fine. I told Lyla I’d watch her shoot. She’ll probably let me crash at her place, since she basically lives at Ope’s.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
Aubree nodded. “Positive. I’m fine, Luann… really.”  
  
“Yeah.. okay,” Luann agreed, shooting her a disbelieving look. “Whatever you say, hon.”

* * *

Aubree stood off-set, watching as Lyla filmed one of her usual girl-on-girl shoots. She silently thanked god that she had yet to be subjected to one; the very thought of having to eat pussy made her feel ill. She wasn’t willing to even be on the receiving end of oral sex, let-alone have to perform it on another woman. She shuddered at the very thought.  
  
“Aubree.”  
  
The redhead tensed, feeling a large hand on her shoulder. “What?” she sighed, closing her eyes.  
  
“We need to talk.”  
  
She turned around, arms folded against her chest. “So talk.”  
  
Before her stood three of the Sons: Opie, Juice, and Jax. “Shouldn’t you guys be… I don’t know… keeping your brother company in the hospital?” she muttered, scowling.  
  
“Shouldn’t _you_ be?” Jax retorted, shrugging.  
  
“Thought I’d leave that to his wife,” she snapped, her voice louder than she’d intended it to be.  
  
“You want to give us a minute, talk to us, Aub?” Jax continued, an eyebrow raised. “Somewhere a little more private?” he asked, nodding towards the set.  
  
“Whatever,” Aubree muttered, nodding. “May as well follow me to my dressing room.”  
  
The four settled inside the room, shutting the door. “Well?” she asked, looking at the three men expectantly.  
  
“It’s been three days,” Jax started, sighing. “You really should go see him. He’s been asking for you.”  
  
“I can’t,” she replied, shaking her head.  
  
“He hasn’t been with Fi in years.”  
  
Aubree remained silent, digging through the drawers of her dressing table. _I must have something around here. Vicodin. Xanax. Maybe there’s some coke left…_  
  
“Aubree,” Opie said, getting her attention.  
  
“What, Ope?” she asked, sighing.  
  
“Have you slept in the past few days?” he asked, eyeing her curiously.  
  
“No.”  
  
“You know you can’t ride a coke binge forever… you’re gonna crash, Aub. You should let one of us take you home. Sleep it off.”  
  
“I’m not going back there,” she hissed, slamming her fist against the table.  
  
The men exchanged looks. “Why don’t you come stay with me a few days, Aub?” Juice suggested.  
  
Aubree looked helplessly from Opie to Jax. “Can’t you guys just leave me alone? I don’t need to be…” she trailed off, lips beginning to quiver.  
  
“You’re Chibs’ woman. It’s our duty to look after you for him. He’d be furious if we left you to your own devices like this…” Jax retorted, nodding towards her.  
  
Aubree remained silent, staring blankly at the three men.  
  
“Look, we’re not saying you have to go back home. Just let us look after you, give you a bed to sleep in. Juice has got a spare bedroom, and his place is probably the cleanest. Let us look after you. Chibs would want us to make sure his girl is okay,” Ope said calmly, staring the redhead down.  
  
Aubree sighed. “Okay. Fine. Can we...” she paused, frowning. “Well… can _you_ grab a few things from the house for me before we head back to your place?” she asked, directing her question at Juice.  
  
“Yeah, of course,” he agreed.  
  
“He cares about you, Aub. You know that, right?” Jax asked.  
  
Aubree nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “I know,” she said quietly, nodding.

* * *

Juice and Aubree sat on opposite ends of the couch, beers in hand. Despite her resistance, Juice had convinced her to stay at Chibs’ house, citing that it was closer to Cara Cara and her stuff was there, anyway. The two had settled into the living room, where some random movie Aubree had never heard of was playing on the television, the volume set low enough that it was barely audible. “How’s he doing?” she asked quietly, staring down at her beer.  
  
“If you’d go see him, you’d know,” Juice retorted, shrugging.  
  
“You all think I’m being unreasonable,” she replied, shaking her head.  
  
“He’s sorry, Aub.”  
  
“I know,” she replied, sighing. “I… it’s hard, okay? It was a… a shock to the system, I guess. He’s been privy to so much of my shit, my personal baggage… I guess I don’t know that much about him at all, do I?”  
  
“He should have told you about Fi and his kid. Me and the club are with you on that. You deserved to know that sort of history. But the guy… he’s like that, you know? I’ve known him for years now, and I still feel like I barely know him. He didn’t keep it from you for any sort of malicious intentions, though. I know that much,” Juice replied, patting her hand gently.  
  
“How could you know that?” she asked, taking a sip of her beer.  
  
“He’s in love with you. You need to understand… guy’s been in the states well over a decade. You’re the first girl who’s piqued his interest for more than a fuck or a quick blow job in the club since Fiona. He hasn’t _been with_ someone since his wife, not like the two of you are. He’s killed for you. If that doesn’t tell you how serious he is about you, I don’t know what will convince you.”  
  
“I can’t face his wife, Juice.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“It’s humiliating. I can’t…” she broke off, shaking her head. “I can’t go there and have to face his wife, the mother of his child, and tell her that I’m…”  
  
“Fiona’s been shacked up with Jimmy O since everything went down with Chibs in Belfast.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Aubree asked.  
  
Juice frowned, taking a gulp from his own beer. “Did Chibs ever tell you how he got those scars?” he asked.  
  
Aubree shook her head. “No… I have no idea.”  
  
“I don’t know all the gory details… just that it’s got something to do with the IRA. He was a part of that… got excommunicated. All I know is Jimmy’s the one who gave him those scars. Every time we have to deal with him for club business, Chibs is in a foul mood. He hates him.”  
  
“Jesus.”  
  
“Yeah,” Juice replied, shaking his head.  
  
She observed him as he procured a joint from his pack of cigarettes. She eyed him curiously. “You want to share it?” he asked, smirking.  
  
Aubree shook her head, smiling. “Nah… I’m good,” she told him, holding up her beer.  
  
“So let me get this straight,” Juice replied, shaking his head, “you do coke, but you won’t smoke pot.”  
  
“What can I say? I like what I like,” she told him, laughing. “I like the smell, though.”  
  
“I’d hope so… Chibby smokes a lot.”  
  
“Yeah, kind of picked up on that,” Aubree retorted, smirking. “I like it. I love that smell. His smell.”  
  
“How is he holding up? Is he doing okay?” she asked, chugging the remainder of her beer.  
  
“There’s more in the kitchen,” Juice told her, nodding at her empty can.  
  
Aubree grabbed two fresh cans, returning to the couch. “Here,” she told him, offering Juice one of the cans.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
Aubree took a deep sip of her beer, waiting anxiously.  
  
“He’s doing okay. Healing well enough. He’s in pain, but you know how he is... puts on a strong front, acts like he’s doing just fine.”  
  
Aubree nodded. “Fiona’s still sitting with him every day?”  
  
Juice shrugged. “She’s been there… he keeps sending her away. He mostly just wants to see you. You’ve got him all wound up, worried about you, ya know.”  
  
Aubree sighed. “I do… you know. I… I worry about him, hope he’s okay. It just hurts, thinking about what he kept from me.  
  
“It might do him some good, hearing from you.”  
  
“Juice,” Aubree sighed, shaking her head.  
  
“I’m not saying you have to call him or go see him. Just shoot him a text. Any response from you, I’m sure it’ll make his day.”  
  
Aubree remained silent, considering his words. “Maybe,” she said, finally.  
  
The two sat in silence for several minutes, Juice smoking his joint, while Aubree sipped her beer. After several minutes of consideration, she grabbed her phone from the coffee table. Quickly, before she lost her nerve, she texted Chibs. _I miss you. Hope you feel better <3_

* * *

“May I help you?” Aubree asked, scowling at the woman at her doorstep.  
  
“Can we talk?” the woman asked, staring her down.  
  
“What’s there to say? I didn’t know he was married, okay? I’m sorry.”  
  
Fiona sighed. “Can I come in?”  
  
Aubree eyed her warily. “Fine,” she said, sighing heavily. “Come on in.”  
  
The two sat at the tiny kitchen table, silently sipping tea.  
  
“Earl Grey. Filip’s favorite,” Fiona observed.  
  
“Yeah,” Aubree agreed, shrugging. “It’s his house. Makes sense he’d keep what he likes on hand.”  
  
“You care for Filip, yea’?” Fiona asked, mug in hand.  
  
“He was kind to me,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes focused on her own mug of tea, “probably the only man to ever show me any kindness.”  
  
“Aye. He’s a good man. Would have been a good father to our girl, Kerrianne.”  
  
Aubree cringed. “How old is she?”  
  
“Fifteen. I was just about your age when we had her.”  
  
Aubree nodded, unsure of what to say in response.  
  
“Did Filip ever tell you why he left Belfast?” Fiona asked, taking a sip of tea.  
  
Aubree shook her head no. “No. I know it has something to do with the IRA, but he never told me anything.”  
  
“He was excommunicated from the IRA. Dunnae exactly wha’ for, bu’ Jimmy…” she trailed off, her eyes moistened with emotion. “I didnae wan’ him to do wha’ he did. His face… Filip was so handsome, you’ve no idea. Thas’ why he did it, I s’pose. Ta make a point.”  
  
“Jimmy’s ma husban’ now. Not legally, but he… he took me and Kerrianne when he forced Filip out. I’m third generation IRA, I couldn’t just… I should ha’ followed ‘im. He left when she was only a babe, hasn’t seen her in years.  
  
“What do you _think_ he did to get excommunicated?”  
  
“Filip was an angry young man. Didnae have any regar’ for rules. No doubt he pissed off one o’ the kings. He’s got a nasty temper. Go’ himself court marshaled five months into his stint in the army.”  
  
“So why’d he leave? Why come here?” Aubree pressed.  
  
“Jimmy would ‘ave killed ‘im if he stayed. He prospected SAMBEL for a year then patched over to SAMCRO. He had to get out.”  
  
“Why are you telling me this?”  
  
“He’s nah mine, anymore. I love ‘im, but we’ve been separated over a decade. You’re his old lady. You shou’ know des things abou’ him.”  
  
“I’m not his old lady.”  
  
“Lass,” Fiona retorted, rolling her eyes. “I saw ye lookin’ in on ‘im. You’re his ol’ lady. An’ he loves ye. You shoul’ go see ‘im.”  
  
“Why would he keep this from me? I just… he never said a word. Not one fucking word about having a wife, a fucking kid… how can I…” she trailed off, shaking her head.  
  
“We all ‘ave secrets, don’ we? Can you blame ‘im? He prollae wanted you ta see ‘im in the best possible light.”  
  
Aubree shrugged, stared down into her mug of tea. “I guess so,” she mumbled.  
  
“Ye should go see ‘im. He misses ye, lass. It’d do him some good, seein’ his girl,” Fiona pressed, shooting Aubree a pointed look. “Jimmy doesnae want me there, anyway. He an’ Lip, they don’t get on well. Better I leave ye to it, lookin’ after ‘im.”  
  
Aubree pressed her lips together, considering her words. “I’ll think about it,” she said finally, sighing.

* * *

Aubree paced the waiting room of St. Thomas, lips pressed firmly together.  
  
“Hey,” Jax said, shaking his head, ”You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor if you don’t cut that out.”  
  
Aubree shrugged, sitting down, burying her face in her hands.  
  
“You okay?” he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.  
  
“No,” she muttered, sighing heavily.  
  
“He’s a dickhead for not telling you about Fi. We already told him that.”  
  
“Thanks,” she mumbled, shrugging.  
  
“He wants to see you.”  
  
Aubree nodded. “Okay.”

* * *

“Hey,” she said softly, taking a seat in the chair beside his bed.  
  
“Hey,” he said back, reaching out his hand and grabbing hers, squeezing gently.  
  
Aubree looked at him, bursting into tears.  
  
“Hey… lass, I’m okay.”  
  
“I’m sorry I stormed off. God I’m such a fucking asshole. I shouldn’t have…” she trailed off, pulling her hand away, burying her face in her hands.  
  
“You had every right,” he replied.  
  
She shook her head, turning away from him.  
  
“Please don’t cry, sweet girl. I can’t bear it.”  
  
Aubree nodded, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her blouse.  
  
“I asked Fi for a divorce. We’re going to sign the papers while she’s still here in the states.”  
  
“You don’t have to do this.”  
  
“I want to. It’s time. She and I… we haven’t been together for years, now.”  
  
“When are they going to let you come home?” Aubree asked, squeezing his hand.  
  
“Week or two. I’d rather they let me leave, now. I’d rather recoup in me own bed.”  
  
“I…” she paused, the words lingering on her lips. _Just say it. Tell him the truth. You love him_. “I missed you so much,” she said instead, pursing her lips together. “I hated being away from you, Filip.”  
  
“I’ was me own fault. Shouldae told ye from the start. I’m sorry, lass. I didnae mean to hurt ye.”  
  
“It’s okay,” she told him, staring down at the ground.  
  
“Yer a good girl for sayin’ so, but I know thas’ a lie. I hurt ye. I never wanted ta do tha’. I’m sorry lass. I love ye. Ye know tha’, right?”  
  
Aubree nodded. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. “I can’t live without you, Filip. I’m so sorry I stayed away for so long,” she told him, deepening the kiss.  
  
“I want ye to wear my crow,” he told her, looking surprisingly timid.  
  
“Yeah?” she asked, grinning.  
  
He nodded. “I want e’ryone ta know you’re mine, lass. Nothin’ would make me happier than for ye to wear my crow.”  
  
“When you get home, let’s do it, then,” she told him, grinning.  
  
“Really?” he asked, looking unbelievably pleased. “Ye will?”  
  
“I would love to wear your crow. I want everyone to know that I’m yours,” she affirmed, kissing him.


	14. Chapter 14

Aubree sat beside Lyla outside of the clubhouse, face buried in her hands. In less than a month, her entire world had gone to shit. First Chibs’ accident. Then Luann’s murder. Now the studio, burned to the ground. “The fuck are we gonna do now, Ly?” she asked.  
  
Lyla shrugged. “Fuck if I know,” she mumbled, wringing her hands in her lap.  
  
“It was hard enough losing her. Luann was like a mother to me,” Aubree muttered.  
  
“If it weren’t for the Son’s involvement, I think Opie would be happy about this. Means I’m out of work,” Lyla noted.  
  
“I’m going to have to figure something out… Filip’s been out of commission, and who knows how long he’ll be laid up… he’s not earning. I’ve got bring in money for us. God fucking damn it, this would be so much easier if I hadn’t…” she trailed off, slamming her fist against the picnic table they were seated at.  
  
“The club will look after you two. Chibs is well respected in the club… you don’t have to worry, Aub.”  
  
“I’ve seen the hospital bills, Lyla. He’s got shit insurance. He’s fucking married, so it’s not like I could arrange a quickie marriage to get him covered on my policy,” Aubree muttered, frowning.  
  
“Some of the girls are talking about escorting… I know it’s not ideal, but it’s something temporary, to keep our heads above water.”  
  
“Guess we don’t have much of a choice, do we?”  
  
Lyla shook her head. “You used to do some print fetish modeling work, didn’t you?” she asked, grabbing Aubree’s pack of cigarettes and lighting one.  
  
“Yeah,” Aubree agreed. “It’s not nearly as lucrative as porn, but that’s how I started out.”  
  
“Still got any of your old connects?” Lyla asked.  
  
“ _You_ want to do fetish modeling?” Aubree asked, head tilted in curiosity as she observed the blonde.  
  
“I’m sure your contacts can point me in the direction of some girl on girl print modeling shit,” she shrugged.  
  
“Fair enough. I’ll make a few calls. See if we can get some work.”

* * *

Aubree stood beside Gemma at the clubhouse, arms folded against her chest. “Any particular reason no one bothered to tell me he was getting released today?” she hissed, scowling.  
  
“Sorry, sweetheart. There’s a lot of shit going on with the club… they needed to bring him up to speed,” Gemma apologized, patting her hand absently.  
  
Aubree rolled her eyes. “Okay.”  
  
The van pulled up, Chibs climbing out of the passenger side. Aubree watched him as he made a beeline for Clay and the other members, completely indifferent to her presence. She made to head towards him but paused, feeling Gemma grip her firmly by the shoulder. “Let him deal with club shit, sweetheart.”  
  
Aubree sighed, lingering for a moment longer, watching as the men exchanged words, taking note of the angry expression on Filip’s face. She shook her head. “I’ll just be a minute, then let him get to it,” Aubree told Gemma, striding towards the men.  
  
“Hey,” she told him, slinking her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder.   
  
She frowned as she felt Chibs tense, heard him huff in annoyance. “Yeah, nice to see you too, asshole,” she muttered, letting go of him.   
  
“Lass,” he said lowly, grabbing her arm.  
  
She sighed. “I know, you’re busy. I’ll leave you to it,” she told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.  
  
He nodded, pulling her closer, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Thank ye lass.”  
  
“Yep,” she muttered, slinking away, lips pursed firmly together.   
  
She rejoined Gemma, watching as the men filed into the clubhouse. “You alright?” she asked, lighting a cigarette.  
  
“Yup,” Aubree retorted, lighting one of her own. “Great.” “There’s a lot going on with the club… you know that. He’s been laid up, of course he’s anxious to get back into things, help his brothers. Don’t take it as a personal snub, Aub,” the older woman told her, squeezing her arm.  
  
“Yeah,” she sighed, frowning. “I know.”

* * *

Lyla offered Aubree the rolled bill and hand mirror, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “How’s Chibs been?”  
  
Aubree shrugged. “Don’t know,” she said shortly, rapidly inhaling two lines of coke, dabbing at her nostrils with her fingertips. “Haven’t seen him since he’s been released.”  
  
“It’s been three days.”  
  
“Yeah… I know. He’s been staying at the clubhouse… I guess,” she muttered, frowning.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Ly told her, shaking her head sympathetically.  
  
“Has Opie ever been like this? Just pushed you away, out of nowhere?” she asked.  
  
Lyla nodded. “I think it comes with the territory, Aub. The club comes first.”  
  
The two paused as they heard the creak of the front door opening. “Opie,” Lyla whispered.  
  
“Hey,” he called out, striding into the kitchen.   
  
Aubree nodded in acknowledgment, busying herself with doing another line. “Everything alright?” he asked, looking from her to Lyla.  
  
“Yup,” Aubree affirmed, rolling her eyes. “You seen my old man, recently?”  
  
Opie shrugged.  
  
She sniffed another line. “I haven’t. Not since he basically shoved me off him at the clubhouse.”  
  
Opie sighed. “He’s got a lot on his mind, Aubree. He just got out of the hospital. We’ve got a lot of shit going down at once… give him some time to get his affairs in order.”  
  
“Okay,” she muttered, handing Lyla the bill. “I’m gonna head out, give you two some time… call me later, Lyla?”  
  
“Yeah, of course,” the blonde nodded, offering her a brief hug.   
  
“See ya around, Ope,” Aubree told him, offering the man a weak smile.  
  
He nodded. “I’ll remind him that he’s got a woman waiting at home for him,” he told her, smiling softly. “Chibby isn’t used to this. It’s relatively new, him having a girl, again. He’s out of practice.”

* * *

“Hey lass.”   
  
Aubree glanced up from her perch on the couch, smiling lightly at the familiar drawl of Chibs’ accent. “Hey yourself,” she greeted him.  
  
“Need a favor.”  
  
“Oh?” she asked, rising from her spot on the couch, approaching him. “And what would that be?”  
  
“I need some of your private stash of guns for the club… there’s shite going on… we need to pull some of our personal stash.”  
  
Aubree nodded. “Sure, sure,” she agreed.   
  
She followed him upstairs, careful to keep her expression neutral as the two began gathering guns from their respective hiding places.   
  
“Didnae know ye had AKs, love,” he noted, nodding at the three guns she’d placed on the bed, along with a few handguns.   
  
“You’re not the first outlaw I’ve been with, sweetheart. I’m used to handling heavy hardware,” she shrugged.   
  
He nodded, frowning.  
  
“Haven’t seen ya in a few days,” she noted, her tone slightly accusatory.  
  
“Been busy,” he retorted, arms folded against his chest.  
  
“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” she muttered, turning away from him. “Guess you’ll be staying at the clubhouse. _Again_.”  
  
“Aubree, don’t be like this, lass,” he warned, his accent thick. “I don’ have time te be fightin’ with ye.”  
  
“But you’ve plenty of time to be checkin’ in on Fiona, right?” she asked, voice dripping with anger.  
  
Chibs glanced up, catching sight of the bandage peeking out from the waistband of her jeans. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding.  
  
She frowned. “Nothing important,” she hissed, turning her back to him.  
  
“Lass,” he started, putting a hand on her shoulder.   
  
“I’ll pack up and leave if you want me to,” she mumbled, pulling away from him.   
  
“Why would I wan’ that, lass?”  
  
“You’ve been avoiding me since you were released, Filip. I’m not stupid… I can take a hint. You changed your mind about me, I get it,” she sighed, shaking her head.  
  
“What are ye goin’ on abou’ lass?” he frowned, staring at her quizzically.   
  
She shrugged.  
  
“I’ve been keepin’ my distance because Jimmy O is in town. I don’ wan’ him te know about ye. I’m tryin’ to protect ye, lass. If he knows about you, he’ll use you to hurt me… like he did wi’ Fi. He… he made a threat abou’ me daughter. Can ye blame me for wantin’ to protect ye from him, from doin’ anythin’ to hurt ye?” he retorted, gesturing wildly.  
  
Aubree stared at him, processing his words. She nodded silently, slowly unbuttoning her jeans. “Do you like it?” she asked, pulling down her jeans and lifting up the bandage, revealing her new tattoo; a crow.   
  
“Is tha’…” he trailed off, stroking the still-tender skin with his thumb.  
  
“Yeah… it’s yours,” she affirmed, cupping his chin, pulling him up for a kiss.   
  
“I love it.”  
  
“Good.”

* * *

Aubree stood with Lyla and Tara, smoking a cigarette. “So… this is a lock-down,” she started, observing the people milling around the club grounds.  
  
“SAMCRO looks after it’s own,” Tara replied, shrugging.   
  
“How long are we stuck here?” she asked.  
  
“As long as it takes,” Tara sighed. “Jax said it’s going to be a few days, minimum. They’ve got shit going on with the AB and the Irish. It’ll be messy.”  
  
Lyla glanced from Aubree to Tara. “Think they’ll let us out of here for a few hours to do some work?” she asked.  
  
“What kind of work?” Opie frowned, wrapping an arm around the blonde’s waist. “Cara Cara burnt down.”  
  
Lyla shrugged, resting her head against Opie’s shoulder. “We’ve been doing some print modeling. Aubree has some old contacts.”  
  
Opie shook his head. “You girls should stay here. No reason to be wandering out and about when all this shit’s going down. You think they won’t purposely target Old Ladies to get to us? No… better if you all just stay put.”  
  
Aubree opened her mouth to speak, only to have Opie shoot her a meaningful look. “Pretty sure Chibs will back me up on this one, Aub.”  
  
She nodded, slinking away, in search of Chibs. She found him deep in conversation with Juice and Happy. “Hey,” she greeted them, shoving her hands in her back pockets.   
  
“Aye,” Chibs said distractedly, barely giving her a passing glance before resuming his conversation with the two men.  
  
“I’ve got a shoot in San Fran tomorrow afternoon. Should be fine to head out that way, get it taken care of, don’t you think?” she asked, casually.  
  
Chibs turned to face her, arms folded against his chest. “No. I don’ think so, love,” he said coldly, frowning. “Ye stay here wit’ the girls, where yer safe.”  
  
Aubree opened her mouth to argue, but silenced herself, taking in Filip’s appearance; he was stiff, on edge. _He’s got his game face on. He doesn’t need this right now_. Sighing, she nodded. “Okay,” she said lowly, shooting him a meaningful look. Just… come back in one piece, yeah?” she asked, taking a step forward, resting her forehead against his shoulder.   
  
“Aye, lass. Ye know I will.”

* * *

Aubree paced back and forth in the lot of Teller-Morrow, thoughts racing. Early that morning, she’d woken to Filip pressing a quick kiss to her lips, promising he’d be back soon, before hurrying off out of the house without another word. She’d gone to the clubhouse in search of answers, only to find the place basically abandoned. “So they left. Just… left?” she asked, looking skeptically at Tig.  
  
“They’re handling shit. Getting Abel back,” he retorted, shrugging. “What choice did we have?”  
  
“Aren’t like, half of you due to get arraigned like any day now?” she asked, glancing at Tara for confirmation.  
  
“Yes,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Abel is in Ireland. Jax insisted.”  
  
Aubree turned back to Tig. “Shouldn’t you be with them, then?” she asked.  
  
“Long story,” he shrugged. “Besides, someone has to help the old man keep T-M running. Speaking of which… how are you at keeping books, doll?”  
  
Aubree shot him a pointed look. “I think I can manage,” she retorted, rolling her eyes.  
  
“Don’t look so stressed out, sweetheart,” Tig told her, shaking his head. “Yer old man’s still got an Irish passport. Of the lot of them, he’s probably the safest over there.”  
  
Aubree shot him a pointed look. “Yes, Tig. I’m so sure that Filip is perfectly safe in Belfast, the place he had no choice but to run from after the IRA excommunicated him. I’m _so sure_ he came to California just for kicks, leaving behind his wife and daughter. Not because he was in mortal danger,” she muttered sarcastically.   
  
“Him and Ope are also the only ones over there who aren’t currently facing time. They’re not the ones jumping bail,” Tig countered. “He’ll be fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”


	15. Chapter 15

Aubree sat across from Agent Stahl, arms folded against her chest. “Can we get through this quickly, please?” she snapped, rolling her eyes. “I need to be on set in an hour.”  
  
“It can wait,” Agent Stahl retorted, smirking at the redhead.  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
“So your old man and the rest of them went off the grid. Where the hell are they?” Stahl asked, thumbing through a pile of files in front of her.  
  
“Fuck if I know,” Aubree shrugged.  
  
“Oh, I think you know, sweetheart. And you’re going to tell me.”  
  
“I’ve barely seen him the past few weeks since he got out of the hospital. He’s been distant. Staying at the club, mostly.”  
  
Agent Stahl smirked, shaking her head. “That’s right, you found out about Fiona and the kid, didn’t you? His girls.”  
  
Aubree stared ahead, saying nothing.   
  
“He was willing to give up a lot to protect those two. Was willing to turn on the club, to bring his girls stateside.”  
  
“He didn’t, though,” Aubree countered.   
  
Stahl laughed coldly. “Hurts to be everyone’s second option, huh? Well, I guess you’re used to it, aren’t you? First with the dealer boyfriend, now your biker. Sad.”  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
“I want intel. Where they are. What’s going down. I can make your life _very_ unpleasant if you don’t cooperate.”  
  
Aubree scoffed. “I already got disbarred. The fuck else could you do to me? I already lost everything.”  
  
Agent Stahl smirked, holding up a file triumphantly. She placed it in front of her, spreading the file open. “Anyone look familiar in these pictures?” she asked. “Look at the dates. Huh… wasn’t _this_ the night you were allegedly in the company of Chris?” she asked, pointed at a photo of Aubree smoking a cigarette outside of her law firm. “Yet here he is… gunning down a rival dealer, minutes later,” she continued, pointing to another photo.  
  
“You are aware perjury is a crime, aren’t you?” Stahl smirked.  
  
Aubree stared coolly back at the agent, remaining silent.  
  
“Now here’s my personal favorite,” she continued, turning a page to another picture. “The way your ex tells it, _you_ were the one who shot the three Mayan foot soldiers when he jacked the Mayans’ delivery.”  
  
Aubree glanced at the photos, her heart racing. _Shit_. Still, she maintained her frosty demeanor, staring down the ATF agent.  
  
“Your law firm helped squash these, along with that federal prosecutor you were fucking on the side. Ain’t no one going to protect you now, baby girl. So. Where are they?” Stahl continued, slamming her palm down on the table.  
  
Aubree paled, but said nothing. “For all I know, those photos are doctored. Wouldn’t be the first time the ATF altered evidence to get someone to start talking,” she retorted, shoving the file back toward the agent.  
  
“Well, you’d know all about evidence tampering, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”  
  
“Are we done here?” she asked, rising to her feet. “I’ve got places to be.”  
  
“Ah yes, your very lucrative porn career. Wouldn’t want to keep you from such pressing matters.”  
  
“Go fuck yourself,” Aubree muttered, turning her back to Stahl.

* * *

Aubree paced her makeshift dressing room, burner phone in hand. _He’s probably busy. They’re over there looking for Abel, he doesn’t need your shit on top of everything else_. Still, she considered, it was important. The guys would want to know that Stahl was sniffing around. She should probably also make him aware of her own past that Stahl was attempting to hold over her head.  
  
“Fuck it,” she mumbled, dialing his burner phone’s number and pressing send.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Hey, Juice?” Aubree asked, frowning. _Why is he answering Chibs’ phone?_  
  
“Aubree. H-hey. What’s up? Everything okay?”  
  
“Yeah… yeah, things are alright, I guess. I need to talk to Chibs. It’s important.”  
  
_Silence._  
  
“Juice?” she asked, wondering if the call had dropped.  
  
“He’s kind of in the middle of something with Fiona,” Juice replied.  
  
“Well, grab him. I need to tell him something,” she pressed, beginning to feel sick to her stomach. _No. He wouldn’t? Would he?_  
  
_Silence._  
  
“It’s not really something I should be interrupting,” Juice said finally, the guilt in his tone overwhelming.   
  
Aubree held the phone away from her ear as she retched into the trashcan beside her.  
  
“You okay?” Juice asked, once she brought the phone back to her ear.  
  
“Sure,” she snapped, wiping vomit from her lips with the back of her hand.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he told her.   
  
“Stahl pulled me in for questioning. She told me about the little deal she tried to make with Filip. You know the one, to protect his _family_? Guess Stahl was right, I _am_ everyone’s second option. She tried threatening me with some shit from a couple years back, saying she knows I’m the one who killed some Mayans. I told her to get fucked. The club doesn’t have to worry about me talking to the feds, I didn’t say shit. You can tell that to whoever needs to know. I don’t fucking care,” she retorted, slamming the phone shut, effectively ending the call. 

* * *

“Who was that?” Bobby asked, looking at Juice curiously.   
  
“Aubree,” he replied, staring down at the phone, as if that would give him answers on how to proceed.  
  
“Why the hell is she callin’ you?” Bobby laughed.  
  
“She didn’t call me. She called Chibs,” Juice retorted, holding up both burner phones.  
  
“Why…” Bobby trailed off, not understanding what Juice was getting at.  
  
Juice grimaced, nodding towards the locked door on the opposite side of the flat. The two stared at each other, hearing the faint sound of a bed frame creaking. “Shit,” Bobby swore, shaking his head. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”  
  
“Eh… not in those exact words. She was insistent on speaking with him, wouldn’t let up. It’s not like I said, ‘sorry Aub, he can’t come to the phone right now, he’s banging his wife’ or anything. She put two and two together. She’s not stupid.”  
  
“What’d she want to tell him, anyway? Hope she isn’t pregnant… that’ll be a real ugly fight when we get back, if that’s the case.”  
  
“Stahl pulled her in for questioning. Was trying to get intel on us, where we are and shit.”  
  
“Did she rat?”  
  
“No,” Juice replied, shaking his head. “She said she didn’t tell them shit. She said something else though that was… I don’t know, man.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“She said Stahl tried threatening her with some shit from her past.”  
  
“Like what? She’s an ex lawyer, ain’t she? She already got disbarred, what else could Stahl have on her?”  
  
Juice made a face. “She uh… she said that Stahl was implying that she knows that Aub was the one who killed a few Mayans a number of years back.”  
  
Bobby shook his head. “Jesus. What do you make of that? You’re the intelligence officer, Juice.”  
  
Juice bit his lip, considering. “When I was digging up shit on that ex of hers, I came across some shit about a hit on the Mayans down in LA. They were moving coke across state lines, to Las Vegas. Shipment got jacked, three Mayan foot soldiers found dead. She got called in for questioning, but was never charged.”  
  
“Do you think she did it?”  
  
He shrugged. “It’s possible. I know she’s usually packing heat, for certain.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah. She’s got a Glock 26 in her purse. Serial number’s been filed off. I don’t think she _has_ a gun where the serial hasn’t been filed off.”  
  
“You sure they aren’t Chibs’ guns, Juicy?”  
  
“Nah. I found them when I was helping her pack up her apartment in LA. Two other handguns stashed in the fucking kitchen, one in the bathroom cabinet. She had a sawed-off hidden in the hall closet. That’s some hood shit,” he elaborated, shaking his head. “Serial numbers filed off of everything.”  
  
Bobby shook his head. “Jesus,” he muttered.  
  
“What the fuck is he doing, man?” Juice asked, shaking his head.   
  
“He’s thinkin’ with his dick, like any other man would,” Bobby shrugged. “Ain’t no ring on the girl’s finger. She knows what this life is.”  
  
Juice frowned. “Yeah. I guess so.”  
  
Bobby nodded, tilting his head towards the opposite side of the flat, where Chibs had re-emerged. “Everything alright, Juicy boy?” he called out, approaching his two brothers.  
  
Juice looked to Bobby, who shrugged. “Tell him about Stahl, at least.”  
  
“Aubree called,” Juice said, careful to keep his expression neutral. “Stahl pulled her in for questioning.”  
  
“Shite. She alright?”  
  
“Yeah. She just wanted you to know what was going on.”  
  
“What’d that bitch want from ‘er?”  
  
“She was looking for intel on the club. She told Stahl to get fucked.”  
  
“Good girl,” Chibs replied, smirking.  
  
“Stahl tried threatening her with some old shit,” Juice added, sighing.  
  
“Like wha’?”  
  
“Sayin' she was the one who took out three Mayan brothers when a coke shipment got jacked a few years back, down in LA.”  
  
“She worried?” Chibs asked, frowning.  
  
“Nah.”

* * *

Aubree peeled into the Teller-Morrow lot, rage coursing through her veins. She slammed her car door shut, stalking towards the shop’s office. Though she’d had an entire evening to cool off after the realization of Filip’s indiscretion, she was still furious. If anything, a night’s sleep had added fuel to her already flaming rage.   
  
“Morning, sweetheart,” Tig called out, smoking a cigarette in front of one of the garage’s bay doors.  
  
Aubree offered him a curt nod before marching into the office, slamming the door shut behind her. She quickly began filing through work orders, piling them up to assign to the four mechanics working that day. She began to type up invoices while she listened to messages left by clients.  
  
“Everything alright, hon?”  
  
Aubree glanced up, shooting a furious look at the individual who’d interrupted her. Her eyes narrowed. _Kozik_. She didn’t know Kozik very well, only that he was from the Tacoma charter, looking to transfer. “What?” she asked, exasperated.  
  
“You just seem a little… on edge. Somethin’ happen?” the blond asked, eyeing her curiously.  
  
“Just another _fantastic_ day in my _fantastic_ life,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.  
  
“Are you helping out with the garage while you’re here, or are you strictly around for _club business_?” she snapped, picking up a pile of work orders.  
  
“I’m helping with both,” he retorted, grabbing the work orders from her. “Seriously though, what’s gotten into you? You look like you could kill someone, right now.”  
  
Aubree shrugged. “If he wasn’t on the other side of the world, I’d probably try to.”  
  
“Chibs?” he asked, a single eyebrow raised.  
  
Aubree remained silent, resumed typing up invoices.  
  
“Aubree.”  
  
She sighed, turning to face the man, once more. “Let’s just say,” she began, lips curled into a scowl, “that once again, I have been shown that _all men are exactly the fucking same_.”  
  
She rose to her feet, brushing past him as she made for the door. “If you’ll excuse me,” she murmured, avoiding meeting his gaze.

* * *

“What happened?” Tara asked, eyeing Aubree cautiously.  
  
Aubree pressed her lips together, considering her words. “Had a nice little _chat_ with Juicy last night,” she scoffed, shaking her head in disgust.  
  
“About?” Tara pressed.  
  
“ _Filip_ ,” she hissed, fumbling for a cigarette from her pack.  
  
“What happened?” Lyla asked.  
  
“He’s fucking Fiona,” she sighed, throwing herself down on the picnic table bench beside the blonde. “His goddamn ex-wife.”  
  
“Shit,” the two girls muttered, shaking their heads.  
  
Aubree lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. “It’s bullshit,” she muttered, frowning.  
  
Lyla nodded, offering her a sympathetic look. “It sucks, doesn’t it? But that’s what this life is, you know? The boys… they do this.”  
  
“So what the fuck was the point of _this_?” she hissed, pulling down the waistband of her leggings to reveal the crow, _Filip’s_ crow, tattooed on her hip.   
  
“What year do they think this is, Lyla?” she asked, furious. “The men get to run off and screw whomever they like, while _us_ , the stupid pitiful women, sit home and look the other way from their philandering?”  
  
“It’s just how the MC life works,” Tara offered, frowning.  
  
“Tell me you wouldn’t kick the ever loving shit out of Jax if you found him giving it to some skank crow eater,” Aubree retorted, exhaling a plume of smoke.  
  
Tara sighed. “I hate it as much as you do,” she affirmed. “I certainly make it clear how I feel about it. But what can any of us do? Even Gemma has to look the other way when Clay fucks one of the girls around the club.”  
  
“What if it was Wendy?” Aubree pressed, staring down the brunette. “Would you just look the other way and take it lying down if it was _her_?”  
  
Tara exhaled deeply through her nose, eyes shut. “No… no, I’d be furious.”  
  
“So you see my dilemma. This wasn’t just some anonymous skank or nameless, faceless crow eater. This was _Fiona_. His wife. The mother of his child. That’s a little different,” Aubree noted, taking a deep drag from her cigarette.  
  
Tara and Lyla nodded affirmatively. “Of course. It’s way different from fucking some crow eater.”  
  
“See, this doesn’t sit right with me,” Aubree fumed, lips curled into a scowl.  
  
“Does he know that you know?” Lyla asked.  
  
“No. I’d have to be able to get a hold of him to be able to tell him. He’s got _Juice_ holding onto his phone while he plays happy family with _Fiona_ ,” she spat.  
  
“What are you going to do?”  
  
“Give him a taste of his own medicine. See how he likes it,” she retorted, shrugging.   
  
Tara and Lyla exchanged looks. “You sure that’s a good idea?”  
  
“He’s gonna have to accept it.”


	16. Chapter 16

“Hey, lass,” Chibs greeted her, as he entered the house, tossing his bag to the floor beside the door.  
  
“Was hopin’ you’d be at the clubhouse when we got back. I missed ye,” he told her, pulling into an embrace.  
  
He frowned, taking note of her rigid stance, her arms pressed firmly against her sides. She stared at him, the faintest hint of disgust evident on her face.  
  
“Everythin’ alright, lass?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.  
  
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” she asked, lips pursed together.  
  
He stared at her a moment, waiting for her to break.  
  
“Fuck you,” she told him, turning her back and stalking towards the kitchen.  
  
“Hey, what’s gotten into you?”  
  
“You don’t even have the balls to tell me to my face,” she muttered, shaking her head, shoving him away from her, continuing to the kitchen. She stood beside the kitchen table, arms folded against her chest.   
  
“Tell ye what, lass?” Chibs asked, exasperated. “Ye think I’m in any mood to play guessin’ games with you? I haven’t slept since two days before we left Ireland.”  
  
“Maybe you should have just stayed there with _her_ ,” she hissed, lips curled into a scowl. “I know you were fucking her while you were there, Filip.”  
  
Chibs’ jaw dropped, completely caught off-guard by her statement. “Lass, I-”  
  
“Save it,” she snapped, cutting him off.  
  
“Aubree, it was just-”  
  
“No. No, you missed your chance to tell me, so now you’re going to listen. Got it?”  
  
He nodded weakly, shooting the redhead an apologetic look.  
  
“So you fucked your ex wife. I say _ex_ because your divorce was finalized last week, congratulations,” she told him, grabbing a stack of papers from off the kitchen table, shoving them toward his chest.  
  
Chibs took them from her, staring down, waiting for her to continue. “How many times did you fuck her, Filip?” she asked sharply, a single shapely eyebrow raised, punctuating her question. “Once? Twice? A dozen times?”  
  
“I dunnae. More than once,” he admitted, his head lowered, guiltily.   
  
“Be honest. Did you even once think of me? Was I even on your radar while you were over there? Or were you too busy playing house with your _family_?” she hissed.   
  
“Aubree, don’t-”  
  
“I hope you savored your time with her Filip, really committed it to memory. Because you are not going to be getting any from me for a _very long time_.”  
  
“I deserve that,” he agreed.  
  
“What are we gonna do about this, Filip? How are we going to sort this out?”  
  
“I’m sorry. Really, lass, I am. I’m sorry I hurt ye, I wasn’ thinkin’,” he replied, pleadingly.  
  
Aubree pursed her lips together, rolling her eyes. “I’m not happy about this. I’m sure you know that, don’t you?” she asked, glaring.  
  
He nodded, eyes gazing at the floor, avoiding her furious stare.  
  
“You don’t know me that well. Not yet, at least. You know some things about me, some ugly, shameful things. But you don’t know everything about me. I may be a lot of things, sweetheart, but I’m _no one’s_ second choice. You fucked your ex wife behind my back. You planned to lie to me about it-”  
  
Filip opened his mouth to respond, but she held out a hand, silencing him. “Don’t even try to deny it, you and I both know you’d have never mentioned it if I hadn’t already known,” she continued, approaching him and beginning to run her fingers through his hair.  
  
“I like you, Filip. I might have even gone so far as to say I was starting to fall in love with you, before I found out about this little indiscretion. So we’re gonna fix this,” she told him, standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.  
  
“How?” he asked, desperation apparent in his tone.  
  
“As you boys say it, I’ve got to get right with it. That’s the expression, isn’t it? So I’m gonna get right with it, and then we’ll be good.”  
  
“What’re ye gonnae do?”  
  
She smirked, pulling him closer, pressing her body close to his, “you’ll see,” she told him, breath hot on his ear.   
  
She pulled away from him, grabbing her purse from the kitchen table. “Bye, Chibs,” she told him, striding towards the front door.  
  
“Where’re you goin’?”  
  
She turned to face him, lips curled into a scowl. “None of your fucking business.”

* * *

“Hey,” Aubree greeted Juice the minute he opened his front door, shoving past him into the house.  
  
“Everything okay?” he asked, eyeing her warily.  
  
She nodded, baring her teeth. “Yeah. Everything is just _great_.”  
  
“So… what brings you round here?” Juice asked, following Aubree into the kitchen, where she’d helped herself to the bottle of whiskey on the counter.  
  
“Saw your bike out front… figured here is as good as anywhere to hang out for a while,” she shrugged.  
  
“You’re pissed.”  
  
“Pissed is the understatement of the century, Juice. If I fucking stayed in that house another minute, you’d be over there cleaning his blood and brains off the fucking walls,” she huffed, taking a swig directly from the bottle. “Fucking asshole. He wasn’t going to tell me. Can you believe that?”  
  
“He didn’t know that you knew.”  
  
Aubree rolled her eyes. “Of course. Of _fucking_ course.”  
  
“Has Stahl bothered you at all since then?” Juice asked, motioning for her to follow him into the living room.  
  
“Nah. I think I made it pretty fucking clear that I wasn’t going to work with her so she fucked off.”  
  
“Did you-”  
  
“Can you save the twenty-questions for some other time, Juice?” she sighed, shaking her head. “I just don’t want to think about any of this shit for a little while… I’ll go over to Lyla’s if you don’t want me here.”  
  
“Just hang out here. It’s fine.”  
  
Juice observed Aubree as she chugged directly from a bottle of whiskey, eyes glazed over as she stared at the television screen.   
  
“Think maybe you had enough?” he asked gently, reaching for the bottle.  
  
“There’s not enough booze in the world to make up for this sort of betrayal,” she snapped, taking another angry swig.  
  
“Jesus, I can’t tell who’s worse, him or you,” Juice noted, shaking his head.  
  
“Meaning?”  
  
“Meaning that you and Chibby are two halves of a whole. You both drink like _this_ ,” he gestured towards her, “when you’re upset. You really are perfect for each other.”  
  
“Why did you tell me the truth, Juice?” she asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper.  
  
“I didn’t tell you anything, Aub. Just didn’t lie to you,” Juice retorted, taking a seat beside her on the couch.  
  
“It would have been one thing if it was a crow eater. I would have been upset, but this… he swore to me that it was over between them, Juice. That he and Fiona were done.”  
  
Juice shrugged, grabbing the bottle from her hands.   
  
“Hey, I was drinking that,” she mumbled, struggling to pull the bottle of Jack from Juice’s hands.  
  
“I think you’ve have enough, Aub,” he told her, shaking his head. “Does he know you’re here?”  
  
“It’s none of his fucking business _where_ I am,” she huffed, arms folded against her chest.  
  
“You should go home to him, Aub. It’s late,” Juice said. “You want me to drive you home?”  
  
Aubree shrugged. “Nah. I can get myself home in one piece,” she retorted, smirking.  
  
“On second thought, give me your keys-”  
  
“Relax, Juicy. I’ve driven _way_ further, _much_ drunker than this,” she assured him, swaying slightly as she rose to her feet. “I’ll be fine. Not like Unser will do shit if he pulls me over. Thanks for lettin’ me hang out, Juicy,” she told him, hugging him. “Nice to know _someone_ in the Sons is a decent guy.”  
  
“Chibs is a good guy, Aub. Give him another chance.”  
  
Aubree sighed. “I know. I know.”

* * *

Aubree returned late in the evening, finding Chibs drinking scotch at the kitchen table, the lighting low.  
  
“Surprised you’re still up,” she noted, throwing her purse on the counter.  
  
“Can I ask ye something?”  
  
She shrugged. “I guess so. What?”  
  
“Di’ ye kill those Mayans? The ones Stahl threatened you abou’?”  
  
She stared at him darkly. “You ask a lot of questions for someone who keeps his own secrets so carefully hidden,” she observed. “Is that how this works, bein’ an old lady? I give up all my secrets to you, all the dark ugly parts of my past, for you to hold over my head? Is that how you stay in control? You know all my shit, but I don’t know yours?”  
  
“Did ye?”  
  
She shrugged. “What do you think?”   
  
“Hard tae say. You’re always surprising me, lass.”  
  
Aubree nodded. “That’s fair,” she agreed, shrugging.  
  
“So?” he asked, staring at her, glass of scotch in hand.  
  
Aubree sighed, lowering herself into a chair beside him at the table. She covered her face with her hands for a moment, vision doubled, debating how to respond. “I’m so fucking pissed at you,” she said lowly, her words muffled by her hands. “I can’t just… I have to get right with this, you know that, right?”  
  
“Aye,” he said lowly, sipping his scotch.  
  
Aubree grabbed the bottle, taking a swig. “I did it,” she said finally, staring down at the table.  
  
Chibs’ eyebrows shot up. He nodded, waiting for her to continue.  
  
Aubree sighed, took another sip of scotch, barely tasting it. “I was with him for a long time… I know he treated me like shit, but I was _down_ , you know? Ride or die. I met him when I was, I don’t know, seventeen? Young lust. Anything he needed, I was there. I used to… when he was short on manpower, he’d bring me along. I’m a decent enough shot... he trusted me to have his back when he pulled shit like that, jacking shipments of blow or whatever.” She paused, shaking her head. She took another swig of drink, tears beginning to sting her cheeks. “I would have done anything for him… he told me to shoot, I did it. I have _always_ been loyal, to a fault. This is why…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “I would fucking _kill_ for you. Anything you needed. So to find you pulling the same fucking shit he did,” she laughed, an ugly barking laugh. “I expected more than this from you. You were supposed to be better than this, better than _him_.”  
  
“I’m sorry, lass,” he said lowly, placing a hand over hers.  
  
“You should be,” she said coldly, pulling her hand away. “You don’t own me. This,” she pulled down her jeans, gesturing towards her crow tattoo, “ this isn’t you _marking_ me as your property, Filip,” she spat, glaring. “This is supposed to signify _more_ than that. We’re together, a couple. This is a symbol of my loyalty to you, Filip. You owe me the same degree of loyalty.”  
  
“Lass, it’s not-”  
  
“No, I don’t want to hear it,” she interrupted, holding out a hand to silence him. “I don’t care about what club life is like or any of that bullshit. I am not your typical old lady, baby. This is me and you. I don’t give a fuck what anyone else is willing to put up with. You want my loyalty? Want me to be yours and only yours? You better be ready to promise me the same.”  
  
“I’m sorry I hurt ye, lass. I didnae mean to… I dunnae what I was thinkin’… I love ye,” he retorted, grabbing her hand, squeezing it tightly.  
  
“You’re a good man, Filip Telford. I wouldn’t have let you see so much of my own weakness if that weren’t the case. But this shit? This…” she trailed off, gesturing vaguely with her left hand, “never again, Filip. I am _not_ your doormat. I won’t be for any man, ever again. I let Christopher ruin me, destroy the best parts of me, for his own selfish gain. I know that I deserve better. You swore to me that it was over between you and Fiona. Obviously, that was a lie. Lie to me again, and I swear to god I will walk.”  
  
“Aye, lass. Of course.”  
  
Aubree nodded, took another swig of scotch, before rising to her feet. “I’m so fucking tired,” she muttered, vision doubled. “I’m going to bed.”  
  
“I prollae should, too,” Filip agreed, rising as well.  
  
Aubree shot him a pointed look. “This,” she started, gesturing between the two of them, “ doesn’t mean a goddamn fucking thing. I’m still pissed. And I still have to get right with this. I’m sleeping in the guest room,” she told him, shooting him a filthy look.

* * *

Aubree stormed into the clubhouse, the _click-clack_ of her stiletto heels echoing throughout the building as she made her way to the bar. “Boys,” she greeted the men present, slamming her purse on the bar.   
  
“Where’s Chibs?” Juice asked, eyeing her warily.  
  
“Chibs is taking some time for personal reflection,” she retorted, her lips curled into a scowl.  
  
Juice and Bobby exchanged looks.   
  
“So,” Aubree continued, grabbing a bottle of whiskey, bringing it to her lips. “How many of you knew he was banging his ex wife while you were overseas?”  
  
The men remained silent, avoiding her gaze.  
  
“Okay,” she nodded, rising to her feet. “So you all knew. That’s good. Makes this easier.”  
  
She began to pace the room, carefully observing each man seated at the bar.  
  
“What’re you doing, Aub?” Juice asked lowly, reaching to take the whiskey bottle from out of her hands.   
  
“I’m trying to decide which one of you I want to fuck,” she retorted, shrugging.  
  
“It don’t work like that, sweetheart. You’re Chibs’ old lady,” Bobby replied, shaking his head.  
  
Aubree frowned. “Oh, no. No, no, darlin’. This is what we’re doing. _Filip_ and I have come to an understanding. I’ll overlook his little… _indiscretion_. I already told him. But reparations must be made. And this is how I’m going to.”  
  
“Aubree,” Tig started, frowning, “I get that you’re upset, but what did you think this life was?” Aubree grabbed the whiskey from Juice, swallowing down another mouthful, as she considered her response. “Do you think I give a _fuck_ about what this life _is_? I don’t care if this is what you all do, what you all consider acceptable. I will _not_ be disrespected and treated like a doormat. I won’t.”  
  
She rose to her feet, once again pacing about the clubhouse, shooting filthy looks at the men, whiskey bottle firmly in hand. “What did I think this life was…. you know that’s actually a really good question, Tiggy. I know that as an old lady, I’m supposed to keep my head down, keep my nose out of club business. Which makes sense. I get it, I do. I also know that _this_ ,” she paused, pulling down her jeans to show her crow, “signifies that I’m Filip’s. I know that loyalty is expected from me… that no other man should be laying their hands on me,” she continued, taking another swig from the bottle.   
  
She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, fixing the men seated in the clubhouse with a hard stare. “Is it really so much for me to ask for a little loyalty in exchange?”  
  
Opie nodded. “She does have a point,” he muttered.   
  
“I’m not looking for your permission,” Aubree snapped, slamming the bottle back down onto the bar. “This is happening, regardless. You can go ahead and call Filip if you want, I don’t fucking care. The sooner her shows up here, the sooner we can get this over with.”  
  
“Juice,” she said sharply, grabbing the youngest man’s attention.  
  
Juice paled, shooting the redhead a pleading look. “Jesus Christ, Aubree. He will kill me. I can’t. You’re his old lady, he’ll fucking kill me if I-”  
  
“Nah. He knows we’ve got to settle the score, somehow. Besides, you’re his favorite. He won’t be too angry with you,” she retorted, shrugging.  
  
“Why me?”  
  
Aubree shrugged. “You’re the cutest. Besides, it’ll hurt him, if it’s you. I thought about what would be the biggest _fuck you_ to him.”  
  
“You’re gonna get me killed,” he said lowly, shaking his head in disbelief.  
  
“Guys…. back me up here?” he asked, turning to his brothers.  
  
“She has a point,” Clay noted, shrugging. “Of anyone here, he’ll be less pissed if it’s Juice. Just let her do what she needs to do.”  
  
“You sure that’s a good idea, boss?” Tig asked, glancing from Clay to Aubree.  
  
“Hey, at least she didn’t kill him. I was half-expecting her to show up with his blood on her hands,” Clay laughed.   
  
“He’s not going to believe that I didn’t do this willingly,” Juice argued, shaking his head.  
  
Aubree pursed her lips together, thinking. “I can make it look believable,” she stated, pulling her gun from her bag.  
  
“What are you going to…” he trailed off, eyes wide as she held up the gun, pointing it at him.  
  
“You all see me holding him at gunpoint, right?” she asked the men, striding towards Juice, pressing the barrel to his temple.   
  
“Let’s go,” she told him, shoving him towards the dorms. “Now no one can argue that you went willingly.”

* * *

Aubree peeled off her jeans and top, tossing them to the floor. “Well,” she demanded, looking expectantly at Juice.  
  
“I… I don’t think this is a good idea, Aub. He’s gonna kill me, fuck,” he stammered, averting his eyes.  
  
Aubree shook her head, striding towards him. “Come on, baby,” she whispered in his ear, helping him shrug off his kutte, “I know you’ve thought about it… being with me… fucking me. This is your free pass, Juicy. Don’t you want me?”  
  
Juice nodded, his eyes still widened in panic. “Shit, he’s going to kill me for this,” he muttered, pulling off his white t-shirt.   
  
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You don’t even have to do any work. Just lie there and let me handle everything,” she told him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.   
  
Juice did as he was told, pulling off his jeans and underwear, embarrassedly attempting to cover his erection.  
  
“See?” she smirked, nodding, “I knew you wanted it. Want me.”  
  
“Get on the bed,” she told him, pulling off her underwear, throwing them haphazardly across the room.  
  
“Like this?” he asked, climbing into bed.  
  
“No,” she frowned, shaking her head. “Other way. I want him to have to look me in the eyes when he walks in here and sees me riding your dick.”  
  
Juice swallowed, paling at her statement. “Oh shit,” he muttered, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. He complied, wiping his palms, moist with nervous sweat, on the bed-sheets.  
  
“Put this on,” she instructed, tossing him a square foil-wrapped packet.   
  
“A rubber?” he asked, a single eyebrow raised.  
  
“Like I’d let you fuck me raw,” she scoffed, nose wrinkled in disgust.  
  
Juice nodded, rolling on the condom.  
  
“Good boy,” she told him, climbing atop him. She pressed another kiss to his lips, stroking his cheek fondly. “Thank you,” she whispered.  
  
He nodded, a gasp escaping his lips as she swiftly brought herself down on him, her pace manic as she fucked herself on him. “FUCK!” she screamed, eyes squeezed shut, fingernails digging into his biceps. “God damn it, YES!”  
  
Juice stared up at her, entranced by her performance. She was certainly going all in, making sure she was loud enough that she could be heard likely everywhere within the clubhouse.   
  
“Choke me,” she told him, pulling his right arm up, guiding his hand towards her throat.  
  
“What?” he asked dumbly.  
  
“Just shut up and choke me,” she hissed, slamming down against him for emphasis. “GOD YES!”   
  
She continued her rhythm, eyes locked on the door. Juice closed his eyes, willing himself to last.  
  
At last, the door opened, Chibs storming into the room. “What’s goin’ on in ‘ere?” he demanded, freezing in the doorway as he watched Aubree riding Juice, her chin held high, in defiance, staring straight at him.  
  
“The fuck is this?” he asked, eyes narrowed to slits.  
  
“This is me getting right with it, baby,” she told him, arching her back as she continued to fuck Juice, who had removed his hands from her throat and was currently covering his face.  
  
“Thas’ enough, lass. Ye made yer point,” he muttered, his voice low, dangerous.  
  
“Have I?” she asked, climbing off of Juice, striding towards him. “I love you Filip, but I am _no one’s_ doormat. So the next time you’ve got your dick in someone who isn’t me, I want you to think about this and remember that I will _always_ get mine. Reparations will be made. And next time, I won’t make whatever dick I claim wear a condom.”  
  
Chibs pulled her into an embrace, hands gripping her hips, tracing her crow tattoo with his right hand. “You’re mine, lass,” he whispered, his breath hot on her ear.  
  
“Next time I hope you’ll take better care of your belongings then, Filip. I don’t share, either,” she retorted, throwing her arms around his neck.   
  
“Like anyone coul’ ever compare to you, lass. You’ve nothin’ to worry about,” he told her, tangling his fingers into her hair as he pulled her closer for a kiss.  
  
“So don’t do it again. Asshole,” she retorted, pecking him on the lips before breaking the embrace.  
  
“I guess I should head home,” she told him, gathering her clothing and quickly redressing.   
  
“Filip,” she said quietly, grabbing his hand, squeezing it. “Are we good?” she asked.  
  
“Aye. I’ll see ye at home lass,” he sighed, kissing her forehead.   
  
“Go easy on him. He didn’t want to do this… I made him,” she told him, pressing a kiss to his lips.


	17. Chapter 17

“Can you at least let me put my clothes back on before you kill me?” Juice asked, eyeing Chibs warily.  
  
Chibs shrugged. “Hurry it up, lad,” he huffed, arms folded against his chest, inpatient.  
  
Quickly, Juice redressed, fumbling to button his jeans. “I swear to god I didn’t want to do this,” he told the older man, pleadingly.   
  
“Yeah, I’m so sure o’ tha’,” Chibs retorted, rolling his eyes.  
  
“Chibs, man. I told her… I told her you’d kill me. I didn’t want to do it-”  
  
“Didnae look tha’ way from where I stood, lad.”  
  
Juice shook his head, sitting down on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. “Shit. Shit.”  
  
“So you wantae explain to me wha’ exactly happened, lad?” Chibs asked, taking a seat beside Juice.  
  
Juice nodded. “Yeah, yeah, of course, man.”  
  
“Well?” Chibs asked, expectantly.  
  
“She was pissed at you. Like, really pissed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that mad before, man. She showed up here furious, started drinking and pacing around, demanding that we tell her if we knew about you and Fiona.”  
  
Chibs nodded, waiting for him to continue.  
  
“She said she was trying to decide which one of us to fuck… trust me, I wasn’t exactly thrilled when she decided upon me,” Juice continued, shaking his head furiously. “I told her, Chibby, I _told_ her you’d kill me if I-”  
  
“So what, did ye volunteer, Juicy?” he sneered, shooting Juice a look of the utmost contempt.  
  
“NO! She fucking put a gun to my head, man! I didn’t want to do this! She wasn’t having it any other way, what the fuck was I supposed to do?” he protested, gesturing wildly.  
  
“Certainly looked as though you were an active participant to the deed, lad. Didnae exactly have a hard time gettin’ it up for her, eh?” he pressed, brows knit in disgust.  
  
“What the fuck was I supposed to do, Chibs? Hit her? If I fucking hurt her trying to refuse to go along with her _insane_ plan, you’d have fucking killed me, and you know it. I took the path of least resistance… and come on, man, you’ve seen her. She’s a fucking knockout. Of course I got hard when she took her fucking clothes off. I’m only a man.”  
  
Chibs shook his head, rubbing his face with his hands. “Jesus Christ, Juicy Boy…” he muttered, his accent thick.  
  
“I’m sorry, bro. You gotta believe me, though… I didn’t wanna do this.”  
  
Chibs sighed, rising to his feet. “Alright, stand up, Juicy.”  
  
“What’re you gonna do to me?” he asked, hesitating to stand.  
  
Chibs rolled his eyes, grabbing Juice by the shoulder, pulling him upright. “You fucked my goddamn woman, Juice. Can’t jus’ look the other way about tha’ now can I?” he asked, pulling his right arm back.  
  
Juice froze, caught off-guard as Chibs’ fist collided with his jaw. He immediately brought his hand up to the affected area, wincing from the pain. “What the fuck, man?” he asked, trying and failing to block as Chibs took another swing at him, this time splitting his lip.   
  
“You really gotta do this, man?” Juice asked quietly, observing the fury in the older man’s eyes.  
  
“Yeah,” he affirmed, striking another blow to Juice’s jaw.  
  
“Alright… just do what you’ve got to,” Juice sighed, arms hanging limply at his sides.  
  
“The fuck were ye thinkin’ Juicy? Ye knew I’d be bloody furious with ye if ye were ta lay a hand on her. She’s my ol’ lady. Ye daft, boy?” Chibs asked, motioning for Juice to sit down beside him, once more.  
  
“She was really upset, Chibs,” he said lowly, wiping blood from his mouth with the crook of his arm.  
  
“So ye jus’ thought it’d be a good idea to shag her, make her feel better?” Chibs snapped.  
  
“She fucking told you she was going to do it, man! She chose me because she knew it’d get under your skin. She was trying to hurt you because you hurt her. Okay?” Juice retorted, sighing heavily.   
  
Chibs rolled his eyes, folding his arms against his chest. “She didnae have to do this. I know I fucked up, wit’ wha’ I did. She didnae have ta do _this_ to get her point across,” he muttered.  
  
“It wasn’t just some crow eater you slept with, Chibs. It was _Fiona_. Of course that hurt her… this was the only way she knew how to hurt you just as badly.”  
  
“She killed those Mayans,” Chibs said quietly, more so to himself than to Juice.  
  
“Huh?” he asked, perplexed.  
  
“Th’ thing Stahl threatened her with…. she owned up to it. Tol’ me she killed ‘em.”  
  
“Jesus,” Juice replied, shaking his head.  
  
“She said she expected more from me… though’ I was better than _him_ , the ex. Christ, I could tell how disappointed and disgusted she was with me.”  
  
“So what are you gonna do? I mean, obviously you aren’t exactly thrilled that I slept with her-”  
  
“I’m not angry with her abou’ tha’. I deserved this. She needed this to move forward. I respect that,” Chibs interrupted, sighing heavily.   
  
“So we’re good?” Juice asked, looking expectantly at the older man.  
  
Chibs frowned, observing Juice for a moment. Without warning, his fist swung forward, hitting him square in the nose. “ _Now_ we’re good,” he told Juice, clapping him on the shoulder.   
  
“I think you broke my fucking nose, man,” Juice complained, hands immediately shooting up to cover his nose, which blood was pouring from.  
  
“Let’s go get ye cleaned up, Juicy Boy,” Chibs told him, offering a hand to help him to his feet.   
  
Juice followed Chibs back into the main area of the clubhouse, cupping his nose with his hands, which was bleeding profusely.   
  
The others observed the two as they took a seat at the bar, Chibs forcing a rag into Juice’s hand, guiding it up towards his nose.  
  
“To be fair, brother, she held him at gun point,” Jax noted, shaking his head.  
  
“So she actually _did_ hold ye at gun point,” Chibs marveled, shaking his head.  
  
“I told you she did,” Juice pouted, voice muffled from the rag pressed to his nose.

* * *

Chibs climbed into bed, wrapping an arm around Aubree’s waist. “Ye really think tha’ was appropriate, lass?”  
  
“I had to make a point,” she shrugged. “I wanted you to get it. Did it hurt, seeing me with him?”  
  
“Aye.”  
  
“Well… now you know how I felt, finding out that you were fucking your ex wife behind my back. It _hurt_ , Filip. It was one thing for Chris to cheat on me, I was used to that… but you? I thought you were different. I expected better of you. Some fucking loyalty for Christ’s sake.”  
  
“I’m sorry, lass.”  
  
She sighed, rolling over to face him. “I can’t do this, Filip, this one sided loyalty. I can’t give myself to you and only you if you can’t offer me the same. I’ve lost a lot of things, Filip. My career. A lot of opportunities. But I won’t give up my dignity. I _deserve_ to be shown some degree of loyalty, of faithfulness. If you can’t give me that, then you should have never asked me to wear your crow.”  
  
“I didnae mean to hurt ye, lass. I wasn’ thinkin’… Never again, I promise ye, that.”  
  
“Why did you do it, though?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.  
  
“Do ye really want to know?” he asked, sighing heavily.  
  
Aubree remained silent, waiting for him to continue.  
  
“I haven’ seen me Kerrianne since she was just a wee thing. Seein’ her again, watchin’ Fi be a mother to her, it stirred up some old feelings. I got caugh’ up in everythin’, being back there again with them, my family.”  
  
“Do you still love her?”  
  
“I’ll always love her. She’s the mother of me child, me first love. Lovin’ her and lovin’ you aren’t mutually exclusive things, lass.”  
  
Aubree nodded. “I suppose that makes sense… you got to spend some time with your daughter?”  
  
“Aye.”  
  
He looked down, sadly. “Ne’r got much of a chance to be a Da to her. I missed out on so much.”  
  
Aubree squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, Filip. She’s still your daughter, though. I’m glad you got to spend some time with her.”  
  
“Would you ever want kids, Aubree?”  
  
Aubree froze, taken aback by his question. “I never really thought about it,” she replied.  
  
“We could have a baby,” he said, gently kissing her neck. “Jackie Boy and Tara are having another one. Ope wants Lyla to have a kid with him.”  
  
“You want to have another child, Filip?”  
  
He shrugged. “Maybe. I dunnae. It’d be nice, I guess… gettin’ a chance to be a real da, an’ all.”  
  
Aubree sighed, pressing her lips together.   
  
“Ye alrigh’ lass?”  
  
“Thought a good Catholic boy like you wouldn’t believe in havin’ a child out of wedlock,” Aubree said, laughing.  
  
“We’d be married, of course.”  
  
“Oh?” Aubree laughed, smirking.  
  
“It’d be nice to have a child with me name… Fiona didnae take my name, you know. We hyphenated Kerrianne’s last name. She’s Larkin-Telford.”  
  
“I didn’t know that she didn’t take your name,” Aubree retorted.  
  
“I was a kid, didnae mean much to me at the time, but lookin’ back…” he paused, frowning. “How much does a marriage really mean if she isn’ willin’ to take yer name?”  
  
Aubree pressed her lips together, considering her response. “I’m not sure now is the best time to have a kid,” she said finally, sighing.  
  
“An’ why is tha’?”  
  
“We have no idea how things are going to turn out with Stahl. Who knows how long the others are going to be locked up… you think you’re up to keep the club running with a skeleton crew while taking care of a newborn?” she asked.  
  
“I took care of a baby in the midst of all the shite with the IRA. I think I can manage it jus’ fine, lass,” he assured her, pressing a kiss to her lips.   
  
“I love you, Filip Telford,” she told him, curling closer against him.   
  
“I love ye, lass.”

* * *

“Ope has been trying to get me pregnant.”  
  
Aubree glanced over at Lyla from her perch on the hood of her car, cigarette in hand. “ _Trying_?” she asked, an eyebrow raised.  
  
Lyla shrugged. “I’m on the pill. I had to hide my pills in a fucking mints tin… he _accidentally_ threw mine out at home,” she told her, rolling her eyes.  
  
“Why would he do that?” Aubree asked.  
  
“He doesn’t want me working in porn. Doesn’t think it’s appropriate for his old lady, I guess,” she shrugged.  
  
Aubree nodded. “Shit…”  
  
“Does Chibs care? That you do this for a living?”  
  
“We’ve never really talked about it,” she admitted, frowning. “I have no idea whether or not it bothers him.”  
  
“I had an abortion while they were over in Ireland,” Lyla admitted, staring down at her feet.  
  
“Does Opie know?”  
  
She shook her head. “Oh god no. He’d kill me, if he found out. Tara took me to get the abortion. So just you two know about it.”  
  
Aubree nodded. “You don’t want to have a kid with him?”  
  
She shook her head no. “No, no, it’s not that. I want to have kids with him, someday. Now just isn’t the right time.”  
  
Aubree inhaled deeply from her cigarette. “Filip wants to have a baby,” she admitted, rapping her fingernails nervously against the hood of her car.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah… didn’t see that coming, that’s for damn sure. He fucking just threw that at me, out of left field,” Aubree affirmed, shaking her head.  
  
“I take that you aren’t crazy about the idea?” she asked.  
  
Aubree sighed. “Let’s just say I’m ambivalent about the idea.”  
  
“English please,” Lyla teased.  
  
“I don’t know… being a mother was never really part of my plan, Ly. It never appealed to me. Plus…” she trailed off biting her lower lip.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Just… stuff. I don’t know. It feels wrong, the idea of having a kid just because he wants one, you know?”  
  
“You could just tell him that you don’t want kids?” the blonde suggested.  
  
Aubree rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I’ll get right on that as soon as you tell Ope about your little procedure.”

* * *

Aubree lay curled up beside Filip, head resting on his chest. “Did you know Ope doesn’t want Lyla working in porn?” she asked, stroking his skin lightly with her fingertips.  
  
“Aye… he’s mentioned it,” he affirmed, exhaling a plume of smoke.  
  
“Does it bother you? What I do for a living?”   
  
“Ne’r put much thought into it, lass. I met ye at Cara Cara. Didnae bother me any. I sp’ose it bothers me that ye can’t do the job ye studied ta have. Practicin’ law. But I don’t mind what ye do. Doesn’t make me think less of ye or anything.”  
  
Aubree nodded. “Okay.”  
  
“Any particular reason you asked, lass?”  
  
Aubree shrugged. “I don’t know… just… curious, I guess.”  
  
He shot her a disbelieving look.   
  
She sighed. “I guess I was wondering because of what you said the other night… about wanting to have a kid. I wasn’t sure if that had something to do with you not wanting me to work in porn, anymore.”  
  
“Nah. If it’s something ye want to do, I don’t mind, lass. Of course, I’d love if you’d let me support ye, take care of you, but I don’t expect you to just stop on account of me. I’m not _that_ old-fashioned, Aub.”

* * *

Aubree grabbed Tara by the arm, pulling her into the deserted office of Teller-Morrow. “I need to talk to you,” she said quietly, lips pressed firmly together.  
  
“Everything okay?” Tara asked, concerned.  
  
“Filip is working late… could you swing by?”  
  
“Of course.”

* * *

“Is everything okay?” Tara asked, observing Aubree carefully over a cup of coffee.  
  
“Filip wants us to have a baby,” she said solemnly staring down at her own cup.  
  
Tara nodded, realization dawning. “Have you told him?”  
  
She shook her head. “I don’t know how to tell him, Tar. I’ve never seen him look so excited about something, before. The way his face lit up, talking about how he’s always wanted a chance to be a real dad… how can I tell him that I can’t give him that?”  
  
“Are you sure that you can’t? There’s fertility specialists, there may be a chance that you could-”  
  
“I don’t want to get his hopes up.”  
  
“I know a specialist. I could make you an appointment, get their opinion on the likelihood of your ability to get pregnant,” she offered.  
  
“I didn’t think he’d want kids,” she said softly. “That’s why I thought it was so good… he’s older. Once I found out he already had a daughter, I thought I was in the clear, for sure.”  
  
“Chris used to rub this in my face, you know. The fact that I couldn’t have children. He’d tell me that’s why he didn’t want me, why no one would want me. If I couldn’t give a man their own child, what sort of woman was I?”  
  
“There are other options-”  
  
“I’m aware,” Aubree interrupted, shaking her head. “I don’t think he’d want to adopt or anything. He wants his own kid. I get that.”  
  
“Do _you_ even want a baby?” Tara asked, eyeing Aubree curiously.  
  
Aubree stared at Tara, lips quivering.  
  
“Is this something you want, too? Or is it just about Chibs?”  
  
“I never really thought about it. After everything… when they told me about the damage… I never thought it was an option so I stopped thinking about it as being a possibility. I focused on my career… figured I’d just be that, a career woman, instead of a mother.”  
  
Aubree stared down, hands shaking as she brought her cup of coffee to her lips. “Can I tell you something?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You’re going to think it’s awful. That I’m horrible for feeling this way.”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“I don’t think I’d be a good mother.”  
  
Tara remained silent, waiting for Aubree to continue.  
  
“You know how most women, when they see a baby, it gets them all fired up about wanting a baby? And they go on and on about how cute that baby is and all that shit?”  
  
Tara nodded.  
  
“I have never felt that way. Ever. I look at a baby and feel nothing. Holding someone else’s kid doesn’t make me want a baby or set my biological clock aflame or anything like I always hear other women going on about,” Aubree elaborated, sighing. “I’ve got no maternal instinct. I don’t think I’ve ever succeeded in calming down a crying infant. I refer to babies as ‘it’ instead of he or she. I think most newborns are hideous.”  
  
“It’s different when it’s your own,” Tara countered, shrugging.   
  
“Maybe,” Aubree retorted, shrugging.  
  
“Why don’t you take it one step at a time? See the fertility specialist, find out if you even can conceive. At least then you’ll know whether or not it’s even a possibility.”


	18. Chapter 18

“Filip.”  
  
_Silence._  
  
Aubree slowly approached him, finding him sitting at the kitchen table, bottle of scotch in hand, staring blankly at the wall, completely unaware of her presence.  
  
“Filip, babe,” she said again, gingerly placing a hand on his shoulder.  
  
She felt him tense slightly, observed as he shakily brought the bottle to his lips, taking a long sip.  
  
“Babe… are you okay?” she asked softly.  
  
Again, she was met with silence, save the slight scrape of the bottle being lifted, brought to his lips, then put down again. Sighing, she took a seat at the table beside him, carefully observing him by the dim lighting from the streetlights outside. She frowned at the sight of dried blood on him.   
  
He had set off with the remaining members of the Sons not long after the vast majority of them had been carted away, facing their prison sentence. Chibs had given her a kiss on the cheek, urging her to head home, promising he would be back as soon as possible.   
  
Chibs hadn’t shared what his intentions were before he’d set off, but she already knew; he had been tasked with killing Jimmy O. She supposed it had probably been cathartic for him, the opportunity to seek revenge on the man who’d taken so much from him.   
  
“We should get you washed up,” she said finally, taking the bottle from his hands, rising to her feet to return it to it’s place on the shelf.   
  
Chibs shrugged, continued staring ahead at nothing.  
  
Gently, she cupped his chin in her hand, guiding him to press his lips to her own. She kissed him softly, running her fingers through his hair in what she hoped was a soothing gesture. “C’mon, my love. Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said softly, offering him her hand to help him to his feet.  
  
He accepted her gesture, allowing her to lead him up the stairs, to the master bathroom. Slowly, she undressed him, taking care to press gentle kisses to his bare flesh. “We’ll talk when you’re ready. If you want to. I know this… this wasn’t easy for you. But you took care of it, and it’s over. Your girls are free from that monster, my darling.”  
  
Aubree slipped out of her dress, adjusting the temperature of the shower. Once satisfied that the water was hot enough, she held out her hand to him. “You gonna join me?” she asked, kissing him gently on the cheek.  
  
He nodded, following her into the shower, allowing her to direct him to stand under the spray of the shower-head. With the same care she’d given the task of undressing him, she began to wipe away the blood dried to his skin, periodically pressing kisses to the warm skin of his neck, his shoulders, his chest. “I love you. You know that, don’t you? I know things have been… hard. But I love you so much, Filip. You’re it, for me.”  
  
Chibs nodded, kissing her forehead. “Thank ye, lass,” he told her, his voice gravelly.   
  
The two stood in the shower for some time, savoring the warm spray of the shower-head. Once the hot water began to run out and the temperature cooled some, Aubree ushered him out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her shoulders before tending to Filip, who had begun staring off with the distant gaze he’d had when she’d found him downstairs. Quickly and efficiently she toweled him off, leading him to the bedroom, where she began to scrounge around for a clean set of clothes for him. “I can dress myself, lass,” he said lowly, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.  
  
“Okay,” she agreed, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment before beginning to redress herself.   
  
“I’m gonae go back downstairs,” he mumbled, pulling on a zip-up sweatshirt over a clean wifebeater.   
  
“You should try and get some sleep… it’s late.”  
  
“Not gonae be gettin’ much sleep tonight, Aub,” he said lowly, staring down at the floor.   
  
“I’ll come down with you, then,” she retorted, pulling a robe on over her nightgown.   
  
“Ye don’t havtae, lass. I’ll be fine. No need for ye to lose sleep on my account.”  
  
Aubree frowned, folding her arms against her chest. "I’m not leaving you to pass out drunk at the kitchen table alone. Come on,” she told him, tugging his hand as she led him towards the hall.

* * *

The two settled down in the kitchen, Chibs immediately reaching for the bottle of scotch. Aubree pointedly ignored his actions, put on a kettle for tea.  
  
While the water boiled, she busied herself with digging around for necessary ingredients from the pantry. “Did I ever tell you about my semester in Belfast?” she asked, frowning as she compared two boxes of tea.  
  
“Ye spent time in Belfast?” he asked, curious.  
  
“Yeah. During law school. I did a semester in Northern Ireland. Queen’s University Belfast,” she replied, returning the box of Earl Grey, opting for Chamomile, instead.   
  
“Whereabouts were you staying?”  
  
“New Lodge. Chris’s family is from Belfast. He um, had cousins who were Real IRA. He was locked up at the time. I wanted to do a semester abroad but he insisted there be someone around to keep an eye on me. So I stayed with his family. That’s why I ended up studying there.”  
  
She watched as Chibs’ jaw clenched at the mention of her ex. She winced, deciding it best to change the subject.   
  
“Anyway… I was _not_ prepared for how cold it got there. It was a shock to my poor little Californian system. I pretty much subsided on hot toddies to get through the winter. Towards the end of my semester, I just wanted to go home… I think I retained more knowledge on my experimentation with concocting the perfect hot toddy than I did on international law,” she continued, preparing two mugs of the hot beverage.   
  
She placed a mug in front of him. “Chamomile and bourbon,” she told him, gently removing the bottle of scotch from his hands. “Hopefully, it’ll help you get some sleep.”  
  
“Yer too good to me,” he told her, leaning forward to press a kiss to her lips.   
  
Aubree returned the kiss, patting his shoulder absently before returning the bottle to the shelf. She took a seat beside him, carefully grabbing his hand and squeezing it. With her free hand, she took a deep sip from her own mug, savoring the warmth that began radiating through her core.   
  
“My mam used to make my sister and I these when we were sick,” Chibs said quietly, sipping from his mug. “I haven’ had one in years.”  
  
“Yeah?” Aubree asked, genuinely curious. “How’d she prepare them?”  
  
He frowned, thinking. “Well, she used Scotch, for one thing,” he told her, smirking.   
  
“Naturally,” Aubree retorted, shaking her head.  
  
“She didnae use tea. Jus’ hot water. Couple o’ different spices… star anise, clove, cinnamon. Honey and lemon. My sister took hers with a few teaspoons of sugar,” he continued, taking another long sip from his mug.   
  
Aubree nodded, stifling a yawn.   
  
“Ye can go on up to bed, lass. I’ll be fine,” he told her, nodding towards the stairs.  
  
She frowned. “Are you sure?”  
  
“I’ll be fine. May as well get some rest… we’re gonnae need yer help down at TM, anyway. With Gem on house arrest and most of the lads doing time in Stockton, we’re going to need ye to handle running the operations side of the business,” he told her, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead.  
  
“You should get some sleep, too,” she pressed, tugging at his hand.  
  
He shook his head. “I’ll be fine, lass. Gone plenty of nights without rest. Nothin’ new here.”  
  
“So you killed him?” she asked, unable to help herself.  
  
“Aye.”  
  
Aubree nodded, waiting for him to continue.  
  
“Gave ‘im a parting gift,” he said lowly, gesturing towards the scars on his face.   
  
He sighed, stared down at his nearly empty mug. He looked over at the bottle on the shelf, glanced at Aubree. She sighed, grabbing it for him, placing it down on the table. “I don’ enjoy killin’, Aub. I’m not Happy. I do it because it’s wha’ needs to be done. No matter how vindicating it may ‘ave been, slicing th’ bastard’s face open, stabbin’ him in the throat, it doesn’ make up for what he took from me. Doesnae change anythin’.”  
  
Aubree remained silent, began stroking his hair while he took a swig from the bottle of Scotch. “I worry abou’ wha’ this will mean for Fi and Kerrianne. He was a right bastard, a sick fuck… but he looked after them, provided for ‘em. Fi doesnae know any life other than this… she’ll just move on to some other IRA prick to shack up wit’. Seein’ how things were in Belfast… it troubles me,” he continued, staring down at the bottle.   
  
“They won’t come stateside?” Aubree asked.  
  
“Kerrianne doesnae want to. I asked her ta come wit’ me back here, asked Fi to, as well. They won’t leave. Belfast is their home,” he replied, shaking his head sadly.   
  
“I’m sorry, Filip,” she told him, kissing him softly on the lips.   
  
“S’all right, lass. Get some sleep.”

* * *

“How are you holding up?” Aubree asked, observing Tara from the doorway of her office at St. Thomas.  
  
“It’s… an adjustment,” she said slowly, lips pressed firmly together. “Come on in, I just need to finish typing up my notes, then we can head downstairs to Dr. Thompson’s office.”  
  
Aubree nodded, closing the door behind her. “When do you find out what you’re having?” she asked, eyeing the faint outline of the doctor’s baby bump. A month had passed since the guys had been locked up, and she’d only just begun to show.  
  
“Not for another four weeks,” Tara replied. “How about you, how have you been holding up with everything?”  
  
Aubree sighed. “I can’t complain, I suppose. Chibs is home, he’s just… really busy with the club. Don’t get me wrong, I love Piney to death, but it’s basically just Chibs, Opie and Kozik running things. Most of the prospects are fucking useless.”  
  
“I take that to mean you’ve been spending your evenings alone,” Tara replied, shaking her head knowingly.  
  
“Yeah… he’s pretty much living at the clubhouse, right now. I do see him around there, at least. I’m keeping the books and working the office at TM. Ly and I have it covered, so one of us is usually there while the other is out doing a shoot. But Chibs is on a run with two prospects… not sure when they’ll be back.”  
  
“Who’ve you got holding down the office while you’re here?” Tara asked.  
  
“Piney. God knows what mess I’ll come back to.”  
  
Tara shook her head, laughing.   
  
“So what exactly are we doing today? Are they gonna take blood or?”   
  
“No, today is just going to be an initial patient history intake. Dr. Thompson will be asking you questions about your medical history and habits to come up with an initial diagnosis. You have to have your IUD removed before they’ll do any fertility testing,” Tara replied.  
  
“What?” Aubree asked, staring, horrified, at Tara.  
  
“It’s standard procedure. Normally, fertility testing is only done after couples are unable to conceive after trying for 6 months to a year, depending on your age and risk factor.”  
  
Aubree sighed. “Fine. I’ll schedule an appointment to have it removed.”  
  
“Dr. Thompson is very candid,” Tara noted, putting away her paper notes and locking up her desk. “He’s probably going to ask you questions very personal in nature.”  
  
“He’s definitely going to judge me for working in the sex industry, isn’t he?” Aubree asked wryly.  
  
Tara shrugged. “Honestly? Probably.”

* * *

Aubree sat beside Tara in the fertility specialist’s office, holding her handbag tightly to her chest.  
  
Once introductions were made, the specialist, Dr. Thompson, eyed Aubree critically. “Normally, both partners are present for these consultations,” he noted, frowning.  
  
“My _partner_ doesn’t know I’m here,” Aubree hissed, glaring at the doctor. “Besides… he’s had a child, already. He’s probably fine. I’m the one with the high likelihood of infertility.”  
  
“Aub,” Tara said gently, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “She hasn’t told her partner about her possible fertility issues. She wants a better idea of what the likelihood of her conceiving is before she shares this information with him.”  
  
Dr. Thompson nodded. “Very well, then. I’m going to ask you a series of questions, alright?”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“So you are twenty-eight, correct?” Dr. Thompson asked, peering over her medical chart at her.  
  
“Yes. I’ll be twenty-nine in the fall,” Aubree affirmed.  
  
“And you’re concerned about your fertility?” Dr. Thompson asked, eyeing her curiously.  
  
“If you’d bothered to look at my medical history, you’d see that I’ve been told by multiple gynecologists that I have a high likelihood of infertility,” Aubree retorted, glaring.  
  
“Have you ever been pregnant, or had a miscarriage?” Dr. Thompson asked, ignoring her comment.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Tell me about your sexual history.”  
  
“I work in the sex industry. I don’t know how many partners I’ve had. Several dozen over the past fifteen years. I use protection. I have never filmed a sex scene without a condom. I’ve been on various forms of birth control since I was sixteen.”  
  
Dr. Thompson frowned. “I see,” he said, shooting her a disgusted look. “What type of contraception do you use?”  
  
“I have an IUD. And I use condoms for my line of work,” Aubree retorted, shooting the doctor a filthy look in return.   
  
“Have you had fibroids or any STDS?”  
  
“I’ve never had fibroids, but I have Endometriosis. There’s pretty extensive scarring, from what I’ve been told by gynecologists. Pretty sure they even have an ultrasound on file here at the hospital, that you can reference,” Aubree retorted, sighing heavily. “I also had Chlamydia that went untreated for three or four years. Had that like… four times, I think, since I was nineteen. Never had any other STDs, though,” she concluded, shrugging.  
  
“What was the last day of your last menstrual cycle?”  
  
Aubree frowned. “I don’t know…”  
  
“Do you have any idea what time of the month it was? Beginning? Middle?” the doctor asked.  
  
“I haven’t had a menstrual cycle in years,” she retorted, shrugging.   
  
Tara and Dr. Thompson exchanged looks. “Really?”  
  
“I assumed it was from the IUD,” Aubree retorted, shrugging.  
  
“What about before you had the IUD inserted?”  
  
Aubree frowned, thinking. “I haven’t actually had a period since I was maybe nineteen or twenty, I guess,” she retorted, shrugging.   
  
“Amenorrhea?” Dr. Thompson asked, eyes scanning Aubree’s medical chart.  
  
“Most likely,” Tara confirmed.   
  
Dr. Thompson gazed at her for a moment, expression neutral.   
  
“You do understand that you don’t ovulate if you aren’t menstruating, correct?” he asked her.  
  
Aubree nodded. “That makes sense,” she agreed, shrugging.   
  
“While it _is_ possible that your IUD is causing you to not menstruate, it may be due to your low weight and body fat percentage,” Dr. Thompson continued, clearing his throat.  
  
Aubree nodded. “I see.”  
  
“In my professional opinion, given your, _ahem_ , sexual history and past _medical issues_ , it is likely that you are infertile. The fact that you haven’t had a menstrual cycle in almost ten years is particularly troubling. I would suggest seeking treatment for your eating disorder, Ms. Burke. That may well be the mitigating factor causing fertility issues,” Dr. Thompson stated, his voice clipped.  
  
Aubree scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t-”  
  
“I don’t see a point in proceeding with fertility testing until we determine what the cause of the amenorrhea is,” Dr. Thompson concluded.   
  
Aubree rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Great. Thanks for all your help,” she muttered sarcastically.  
  
Dr. Thompson shot her a pointed look. “I would suggest bringing your partner with you to any future appointments.”

* * *

“Well that went well,” Aubree said sarcastically, storming out of the hospital, immediately lighting up a cigarette.   
  
“Dr. Thompson is pretty… traditional,” Tara replied, apologetically.  
  
“Yeah… he thought I was a filthy whore,” Aubree quipped, rolling her eyes. “What an asshole.”  
  
“ I can look into finding the name of another specialist-”  
  
“Don’t bother,” she sighed, inhaling deeply.   
  
“Aub-”  
  
“He’s right. It’s likely I can’t conceive. Oh well. My insurance wasn’t going to pay for the testing, anyway. I’ll get the IUD removed and I’ll just… see what happens. I don’t need some sanctimonious prick sitting there and _judging_ me for my life choices, my past. I graduated, Summa Cum Laude, from undergrad _and_ law school. I am gorgeous and brilliant. I have it all. So what if I do porn? That doesn’t make me the scum of the Earth, and how dare he judge me for it. He wouldn’t be shooting those filthy looks to some poor man who had a history of sexually transmitted diseases. Maybe I should have mentioned that I got it from my ex, every goddamn time I had it. Because he cheated on me constantly and lied about getting treated. So fuck him. Fuck this. Fuck everyone,” she spat, taking another drag off her cigarette.   
  
“Are you going to tell Chibs?”  
  
Aubree froze, stared at the brunette beside her. “No,” she said coldly, frowning. “He’s busy and stressed out enough, as it is, helping the guys keep the club running. No need to burden him with this _shit_. If he asks, I’ll tell him.”  
  
“But you’re still going to get the IUD removed?” Tara asked, perplexed.  
  
“If I can’t conceive, why bother keeping it? It needs to be removed soon, anyway. They’re only good for five years,” Aubree retorted, shrugging.   
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Aubree huffed, biting her lip. “I’ve got to get going, see what damage Piney has done. I’ve got a shoot tomorrow, so I won’t be at TM tomorrow. Need to get shit handled so things run smoothly while I’m out.”


	19. Chapter 19

Aubree took a deep breath, applying antiseptic to the open wounds across her ribs. "Fuck," she hissed, accidentally knocking over the bottle of antiseptic as she physically recoiled from the pain. Her pulse quickened, fearful that she'd be heard. After a few moments of silence, she sighed heavily, squeezing her eyes shut. _Of course_. Of fucking course she had nothing to worry about. Filip had left for a run a few days ago, hadn't mentioned when he'd be back. Not that it mattered. He'd been spending most nights at the clubhouse, hadn't been home in days. She understood, really, she did. The club was stretched too thin, with so many of their members in jail, the few remaining had no choice but to throw themselves wholly into keeping the Sons' business running, legal and otherwise. Aubree had begun working for one of Luann's competitors, who'd offered her a pretty sum to film several niche films for them, the type of work most girls in the industry shied away from. She'd have been stupid not to accept their offer, she’d told herself, knowing that what they'd paid her to do five films was more than she'd been making in two months at Cara Cara, and was far more than she was making from print fetish modeling. Still, it was probably for the best that Filip was otherwise occupied. She doubted that he would be thrilled that she was filming torture porn, despite his insistence that he didn't mind what she did for a living. Careful not to disturb her injuries, she pulled on a loose fitting dress, began preparing for her day on set. _This is the last film_ , she reminded herself. _Just get through today._

* * *

Aubree sat in her car, hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel. She stared out ahead, struggling to focus on her breathing. She knew that the last of the film series she’d been working on would be the hardest to film, but she had not been prepared for how brutal it had been. _Should have known it was going to end in a gang bang rape_. Her arms ached from being bound into an unnatural position for so long. The director, Lucas Hawthorn, was no Luann. He’d ignored her requests to be untied and given a few moments to stretch, her pleas falling on deaf ears. The actors she’d worked with had also been a far cry from the men she was accustomed to at Cara Cara. While they had used condoms, _thank god_ , they had been rough. Far rougher, in her opinion, than porn called for. She wouldn’t be surprised if her cervix was bruised, again. After taking five dicks back-to-back, each rougher with her than the last, it wouldn’t exactly be a surprise. She felt her sweater sticking to her back, could smell the tinny scent of fresh blood. She hadn’t bothered with cleaning up her fresh lacerations, had just wanted to get dressed and get the hell out of there once she’d gotten her last check. Her entire body ached. She could feel fresh bruises forming over older ones, dreaded having to look at them when she showered, knowing that most of her flesh would be a mottled purple with splotches of gray, yellow, and red, depending on the age of the bruise. _Not to mention the open wounds_. She wasn’t sure whether the actors who’d _tortured_ her were inexperienced or just plain malicious; she was covered in open wounds, a result of knife play and overzealous use of a whip. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard, checking the time. She was due at TM to cover for Lyla in an hour. She knew she needed to get going, didn’t want to hold up Lyla, who had a shoot of her own to do. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to do anything but cry in the parking lot of the porn studio, wanting nothing more than to go home and hide in bed for a while. 

* * *

Aubree arrived at TM just a few minutes before she was due, eyes still bright with tears, her makeup smudged. She avoided the gaze of the prospects working in the garage, silently thanking the powers that be that Chibs was still out on a run, wouldn’t be home until god knows when. _At least I’ll have some time to heal. Maybe the bruising will fade enough that he won’t notice_. She tugged on the sleeves of her sweater, ensuring that her bruise-ringed wrists were concealed. She found Lyla in the office, chattering away on the phone.  
  
“Sorry I’m running late,” Aubree said softly, depositing her purse behind the front desk.  
  
Lyla waved her hand dismissively, ended her call. “No problem. Hey… are you okay?” she asked, eyeing her suspiciously.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Aubree retorted, nodding.  
  
“Bad shoot?”  
  
Aubree paused, considering her response. “Yeah…” she agreed, frowning.  
  
“Is that a bruise on your cheek?” Lyla asked, gently brushing her fingers against Aubree’s cheek.  
  
She winced, involuntarily. “Ow,” she muttered, her right hand reflexively coming up to shield the injury.  
  
“What the hell were you filming?”  
  
“Torture porn,” Aubree said lowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Gang bang rape scene today. It was a little rough.”  
  
“Does Chibs know you’re doing that kind of shit?”  
  
Aubree rolled her eyes. “I don’t see how it’s any of his business,” she scoffed. “I don’t care if he knows or not.”  
  
“So you’re not wearing a sweater in 80 degree weather to cover up bruises?” Lyla challenged.  
  
“Shut up,” Aubree replied, shaking her head. “So I don’t want him to know, so what?”  
  
“I don’t know how you could stand to do that. I’ve heard horror stories about shoots like that. Weren’t you afraid?”  
  
“What have I got to lose? I’m already sterile. What the fuck else could they do to me?” Aubree scoffed, immediately regretting her words.  
  
She stared at Lyla, wide-eyed. “Don’t tell anyone that… Filip… he doesn’t know… I don’t… I don’t know how to tell him that I probably can’t…” she trailed off, staring miserably at the floor.  
  
“Do you know for sure?” she asked.  
  
Aubree shook her head no. “No. But the odds aren’t great. I just… I don’t know. I don’t even know why I took this job. I knew it was going to be awful, Lucas is a prick. I just… it was a good distraction, you know?”  
  
Lyla looked at her quizzically.  
  
“I went to see a fertility specialist… I know I said I was ambivalent about having kids… but you know… when I went to see him, and he told me that I most likely couldn’t conceive... I actually felt disappointed. I had no idea I was hoping that I was wrong, that I might be able to…” she pressed her lips together, shaking her head.  
  
Lyla pulled her into an embrace, rubbed soothing circles on her back. “I’m sorry, Aub. I’m so sorry,” she told the redhead, who’d begun to sob.  
  
“It might have been nice, you know? Being a mom. Having a real family. My own fucking family doesn’t speak to me.”  
  
Lyla continued to rub her back, offering her comforting words.  
  
Aubree pulled away from the blonde, wiping away her tears with her sleeve. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… honestly, it’s not a big deal. I don’t care. I don’t… I knew I was sterile. Just… whatever,” she muttered. “I don’t want to keep you, go on. You’ve got a shoot.”  
  
“Are you sure you’re okay?”  
  
Aubree forced a grin, teeth gritted together. “Never better.”

* * *

“A little warm out to be wearing a sweater, isn’t it, Aub?”  
  
Aubree glanced up, surprised by the sound of a male voice.  
  
“Oh, Opie. Hey. You startled me,” she told him, glancing up from the pile of paperwork she’d been sorting.  
  
“Everything okay?” he asked, eyeing her with concern.  
  
“Yeah, of course. Why?” she asked, head tilted in confusion. _If Lyla said something to him, I’ll kill her._  
  
Opie shrugged, folded his arms across his chest. “You’ve been quiet the past few days. I know Chibs has been away for a couple of days, now. Figured I’d check in, make sure you’re alright.”  
  
“So he asked you to keep an eye on me.”  
  
Opie said nothing, just smiled.  
  
“Any idea when they’ll be back?”  
  
Opie shook his head. “They’re down in Indian Hills handling some business. Hopefully they’ll be back in a few days.”  
  
Aubree nodded briskly, lips pursed together.  
  
“Hey,” Opie said softly, offering her a smile, “you’ve got nothing to worry about, him being down there. Chibby learned his lesson. He’s not going to go straying off with some crow eater. He’s only got eyes for you.”  
  
Aubree smiled weakly, nodding.  
  
“Besides,” he added, grinning, “I heard you’re thinking about kids.”  
  
“Yeah… we’ll… we’ll see about that,” she replied, forcing enthusiasm she didn’t feel, blinking away tears that had begun forming.  
  
“It’ll happen. Once things settle down with the club and Chibs can spend some time at home… you’ll see,” he told her, patting her arm.  
  
Involuntarily, she winced, pulling her arm away.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asked, alarmed by her pained expression.  
  
“Yeah.. yeah it’s nothing.”  
  
Opie shot her a disbelieving look.  
  
Aubree sighed. “It’s just a little bruising,” she mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll be fine.”  
  
Opie took a step forward, frowning. “Did someone hit you?” he asked, nodding at her cheek.  
  
She drew her hand to her face, protectively shielding the wound. “Rough shoot. It’s nothing, really.”  
  
Opie opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the office door swinging open, one of the prospects clearing his throat nervously. “Ope, could you take a look at this engine for me? I think I fucked something up…” the prospect mumbled, gnawing at his lower lip. “It shouldn’t be smoking when I start ‘er up, should it?”  
  
Opie shook his head, sighing heavily. “Jesus Christ… let me take a look at it,” he sighed, following the prospect out the door, back towards the garage.  
  
Aubree breathed a sigh of relief, collapsed into the chair behind the desk. She sat quietly for she had no idea how long, elbows propped up on the desk, face in her hands. Once she’d regained her composure, she wiped stray tears from her eyes, began busying herself with typing up invoices and organizing the clusterfuck of paperwork Piney had left on the desk. 

* * *

“How’d the shoot go?”  
  
Lyla shrugged, stole a cigarette from Aubree’s pack, lighting it. “Okay, I guess.”  
  
“Was it just print today?” Aubree inquired, taking a drag of her own cigarette, exhaling a smoke ring.  
  
“I shot a few scenes for Marcus Bruce. Sorority Girls 69 or something… the usual, girl-on-girl thing. Nothing out of the ordinary,” Lyla retorted, shrugging. “You should think about doing some girl-on-girl work, Aub.”  
  
Aubree made a face, flicked ash before taking another drag. “Not really my scene, Ly.”  
  
“They’re always looking for hot redheads. It’s easy money… safer, too,” she offered, shooting Aubree a pointed look.  
  
Aubree rolled her eyes. “I won’t even let _Chibs_ go down on me… no way in hell I’m going to let some random chick eat me out.”  
  
Lyla’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”  
  
“I don’t like it,” she replied, matter-of-factly.  
  
“ _Really_?” Lyla pressed, looking perplexed.  
  
“What? It’s just not my thing,” she retorted, shrugging.  
  
“You’re weird.”  
  
Aubree shrugged, rolled up the sleeves of her sweater. _Fuck_ , it was hot out.  
  
“Jesus Christ, what happened to you?”  
  
Aubree froze, taken aback by the sudden outburst. She glanced up, finding Piney standing a few feet away, a horrified expression on his face.  
  
She rolled her sleeves back down, lowered her head. “It’s nothing, Piney. I’m fine,” she murmured, silently willing him to leave it alone, to let her be.  
  
“Your arms are all bruised up, Aub. Who the fuck did that to ya?”  
  
“It’s fine, it was just a rough shoot.”  
  
“Chibs wouldn’t want _anyone_ roughing up his girl like that,” Piney replied, frowning.  
  
Aubree paled as Opie approached the trio, cursed under her breath. “Everything alright?” the younger man asked, looking from Aubree and Lyla to his father.  
  
“She’s got bruises up and down her arms,” Piney replied, nodding at Aubree.  
  
“Yeah, I noticed that, earlier,” Opie said, shooting Aubree a look of concern.  
  
Aubree shrank away, wishing that the two would stop discussing her as if she wasn’t present.  
  
“It’s fine. I told you… rough shoot,” she said loudly, rolling her eyes.  
  
“What the hell were you shooting, _torture porn_?” Piney laughed, shaking his head.  
  
Aubree stared down at her lap, began picking imaginary lint from off her sweater.  
  
“Oh Jesus… you actually were, weren’t you?” Opie said softly, eyes widening in shock.  
  
“I think I’m gonna call it a night,” Aubree announced, rising to her feet.  
  
“Does Chibs know you’ve been shooting torture porn?” Opie asked, taking a step forward, blocking her path.  
  
“No,” she hissed, making to brush past him. “And I’d like to keep it that way, thanks.”  
  
She emitted a low hiss as Opie grabbed a hold of her arm, keeping her from leaving.  
  
“Jesus, are your whole arms bruised?” Opie asked, looking moderately disgusted.  
  
“Look, he doesn’t need to know. It was good money, okay? It would have been stupid to turn it down. It’s just some stupid bruising, honestly. I’ll be fine,” she snapped, pulling her arm back.  
  
“Aub.”  
  
“What?” she huffed, exasperated, turning to face Lyla. “What is it? Jesus Christ, I’m fucking tired and everything hurts and I just want to go home.”  
  
“You’re uh… you’re bleeding,” Lyla said lowly, biting down on her lip.  
  
Aubree froze, reached around her back. Sure enough, she felt a warm, wet spot on her back. _Fuck_. She groaned aloud. One of the cuts had reopened, had bled through her sweater.  
  
Opie gently took her arm, began leading her towards the clubhouse. “Come on,” he said softly, shooting her a sympathetic look. “Let’s get you a drink, alright?”  
  
He turned to glance over his shoulder. “Ly, give Tara a call. She should give her a look over, make sure she’s alright.”

* * *

Aubree took a deep sip from her glass of whiskey, frowning as Tara entered the clubhouse, a worried expression on her face. “What happened?” she asked, quickly approaching her.  
  
“Just a rough shoot,” Aubree replied coolly, draining the contents of her glass, slamming the empty glass down on the bar. “Prospect, another,” she demanded, shooting the young man behind the bar a furious look.  
  
Tara observed her for a moment, a single eyebrow raised. “Ly said you’re bleeding on your back. In several spots,” she pressed.  
  
Aubree shrugged. “Rough shoot,” she repeated, shrugging. “Honestly, they’re overreacting,” she continued, the lie slipping easily from her lips.  
  
Tara nodded politely, shooting her a disbelieving look. “Well since that’s the case, this will be just a quick look-over, won’t it?”  
  
Aubree abandoned her glass, allowing the doctor to lead her into one of the empty dorm rooms in the back of the clubhouse. Tara closed the door, folded her arms across her chest. “So are the wounds just on your torso, or do I need to do a whole body exam?” she asked.  
  
Aubree remained silent, shrugged.  
  
“Go ahead and take off your top, then,” Tara said calmly.  
  
Aubree complied, tossed her sweater to the floor.  
  
“You’re a good liar. Very convincing out there, saying that the others were overreacting. Really shows you were a lawyer,” Tara noted, motioning for Aubree to take a seat on the edge of the mattress.  
  
“I was a _great_ lawyer,” Aubree shrugged, following the doctor’s instructions.  
  
“This is pretty nasty bruising, Aub. Some of this looks old… what happened?” Tara noted, frowning.  
  
“I did a five-film series… torture porn,” Aubree admitted, seeing no point in continuing her charade.  
  
Tara nodded, began to examine her back. “I’m gonna clean these,” she explained, lightly touching one of the open gashes across her back.  
  
Aubree winced, biting down on her hand to keep from crying out as Tara slowly and methodically cleaned out her wounds, applying ointment and bandaging them.  
  
“This doesn’t look good,” she noted, nodding at a nasty looking gash across Aubree’s chest. “Did someone cut you?” she asked.  
  
“Knife play,” Aubree offered, shrugging.  
  
Tara frowned, applied antiseptic.  
  
“Fuck,” Aubree hissed, shrinking away from the doctor’s touch. “That hurts like a _bitch_.”  
  
Tara nodded grimly, finished patching her up. “Are you up to date on your Tetanus shots?” she asked.  
  
“I have no idea. I don’t think I’ve gotten one since college.”  
  
“I’m going to give you one, then. I don’t like the looks of some of these cuts… don’t know if it was a rusty knife or anything. Better to play it safe,” she explained, grabbing her bag containing her medical supplies.  
  
Aubree nodded, held out her arm, allowing Tara to give her the shot. She winced at the sting of the needle pricking into her bruised skin.  
  
“Sorry. I know that probably hurts, what with all the bruising,” Tara said apologetically, disposing of the used needle.  
  
“It’s fine,” Aubree retorted, sighing. “Thanks.”  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” she agreed, nodding. “Just sore. I’m tired… it’s been a long day.”  
  
“You’ll want to take ibuprofen, to help with the pain and the swelling,” Tara told her, taking a seat beside her on the bed.  
  
Aubree nodded.  
  
“Why would you agree to film that? You had to know it was going to end badly,” Tara continued, frowning.  
  
Aubree shrugged, staring down at her feet. “It was good money. I’m used to it, I can take the pain. And besides…” she paused, laughing coldly, “it’s not like it really matters, does it? Not like I can do any more damage than I’ve already done.”  
  
“How’s the baby? And how are you feeling?” Aubree asked abruptly, nodding at the swell of Tara’s stomach.  
  
“Baby’s good. And I’m good. We’ll be finding out the sex soon… I’m getting pretty excited,” Tara replied, a soft smile on her face, as she placed a hand on her stomach.  
  
“That’s good,” Aubree told her, smiling at the brunette. “I’m happy for you, Tar. You’re already a great mom… you’re a natural at this,” she continued, her voice wavering slightly.  
  
“Aub,” Tara said gently, patting the redhead’s hand. “You were hoping that he’d tell you that you could get pregnant, weren’t you?” she asked softly.  
  
Aubree nodded, staring down at her lap. “I didn’t realize until he said it how badly I wanted to be wrong,” she admitted, tears beginning to well in her eyes.  
  
“You shouldn’t put yourself into compromising situations to distract yourself from the pain you’re feeling, Aub.”  
  
“It’s what I do,” Aubree quipped, laughing hollowly. “Luann always called me out on it. It’s what I do, what I’ve always done. Fuck the pain away.”  
  
“You still might be able to have a baby, Aub. Doctors are wrong all the time. Especially when it comes to fertility. It might take some time trying, but you still could quite likely conceive. There’s been countless cases where women with your history have successfully conceived, with and without fertility treatment,” Tara continued, squeezing her hand gently. “You’re allowed to be disappointed and upset that Dr. Thompson said it’s likely you're infertile, but you shouldn’t be doing _this_ to yourself to cope,” she added, gesturing at Aubree.  
  
Aubree remained silent, her gaze directed at the floor.  
  
“You should tell Chibs.”  
  
Aubree shook her head, lips pressed firmly together. “I can’t, Tar. How can I tell him that I can’t give him the one thing a woman should be able to give a man?” she asked.  
  
“Tell him, Aubree. He’s not going to think any less of you. Fuck what your ex said. Seriously. _Fuck him_. You’re no less of a woman because of any fertility issues. Chibs is your boyfriend, and he loves you. Let him be there for you. You don’t need to go through this alone,” she retorted, shooting the redhead a pointed look.  
  
Aubree remained silent for several minutes, tears trickling down her cheeks, as she considered Tara’s words.  
  
“Okay,” she said finally, voice raspy, as she wiped away her tears. “Okay.” 


	20. Chapter 20

Chibs arrived back at the clubhouse alongside Kozik and two of the prospects, exhausted. After several days on the road and a near-disaster while down with the Indian Hills charter, he wanted nothing more than to knock back a few stiff ones, take a shower, and crash for a few hours before beginning the cycle all over again. He found Opie and a few of the prospects sitting around the bar, drinking beer and chatting quietly.  
  
“See ye haven’ burnt the place to the ground, yet,” Chibs noted, clapping Opie on the shoulder.  
  
Opie shrugged, shook his head in bemusement. “Still plenty of time to torch the place. How was Indian Hills, brother?”  
  
“Good. Got shite handled.”  
  
Opie nodded. “Good. That’s good.” He rose to his feet, motioned for Chibs to follow him to a more secluded part of the clubhouse.  
  
“Everythin’ alrigh’, brother?” Chibs asked warily.  
  
“Been a long couple of days you’ve been out handlin’ shit. Thought maybe you could take a few days off, spend some time at home,” Opie retorted, casually.  
  
“Why?” Chibs asked pointedly, frowning. “I barely sleep as it is, lad. This club ain’t gonnae run itself.”  
  
Opie nodded, his expression carefully neutral. “Just think you should take a few days, man. Spend some time with your girl.”  
  
“Somethin’ happen?” he asked.  
  
Opie sighed, shook his head. “I’m not gettin’ in the middle of this. Just saying’… you should go home, take a few days. Look after her. This shit is between you an’ her.”  
  
“What shite, lad? What’re ye on about?”  
  
“Ask Aubree.”

* * *

Aubree stared vacantly out the window of the kitchen, a lit cigarette in hand. She took a swig from the bottle of whiskey before her, immediately bringing the cigarette to her lips after. She inhaled, savoring the taste. She exhaled, lips curled slightly in delight as she blew smoke rings. She paused as she heard the familiar roar of a Harley coming up the street. She took another drag off her cigarette. _Guess Chibs is home_. She reached for the bottle, taking another swig. She thought about grabbing a glass, making an attempt to pretend she hadn’t been holed up in the kitchen all evening, drinking right from the bottle. She shrugged, deciding it was too late.  
  
She took another swig from the bottle, simultaneously tapping ash into the ashtray. She heard the front door creak open and swing shut, heard the familiar sound of Chibs’ boots against the tile floor as he made his way towards the kitchen. “Lass?” he called out.  
  
Aubree closed her eyes, stubbed out her cigarette. “Hey,” she replied, pleasantly surprised that she sounded far more sober than she felt.  
  
She turned her head, offering him a warm smile. “Missed you,” she told him, allowing him to pull her to her feet, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist as he embraced her. She recoiled slightly as his touch aggravated her bruising.  
  
“Wha’ the fuck happened ta ye, lass?” he asked gruffly, inspecting her with a look of concern.  
  
“Did a film series for one of Luann’s old competitors. Torture porn. Got a little too rough,” she retorted, shrugging. She reached for her pack of cigarettes, lit up.  
  
Chibs stared at her for a moment, taken aback by her nonchalance.  
  
“What were you doin’ filmin’ that kinda shite, lass?”  
  
She shrugged. “The money was good. Would have been stupid to turn it down.”  
  
“Ye don’ need tae be doing tha’ kind of shite, lass.”  
  
She shrugged, exhaled a plume of smoke. “Thought you didn’t mind what I did for a living, _Filip_ ,” she replied evenly.  
  
He frowned. “Ye know damn well that _this_ ,” he snapped, gesturing at her, “is an entirely different matter, altogether.”  
  
“Porn is porn, sweetheart.”  
  
“It’s not about the porn, Aubree. It’s about me comin’ home from a run to find ye beaten and battered. That don’ sit right wit’ me,” Chibs countered, shaking his head furiously.  
  
“It’s just some bruising, honestly, it’s-”  
  
“Oh, so it wasn’ from this torture porn shite that ye got these gashes across your chest and back?” he spat, gesturing towards her bare chest and back.  
  
Aubree glanced down, suddenly aware that she hadn’t bothered to put on a sweater, and was, in fact, dressed in a skimpy white camisole, giving him a good view of the full extent of her injuries. “It was fuckin’ amateur hour. Dumbasses didn’t know how to correctly do knife play.”  
  
“Enough,” Chibs sighed, holding out a hand to stop her. He shook his head, took a seat opposite her at the table. “Lass,” he started, lips pursed together, “we need tae talk.”  
  
Aubree sighed. “About what?” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “What is this? Are you going to forbid me from doing stuff like that again?”  
  
“I don’t understand, lass,” he said slowly, removing his own cigarettes from his breast pocket, lighting up. “After everythin’ that happened with that fuckin’ mick bastard, why would you put yerself in that sort of situation, again? Why?”  
  
Aubree stared back dumbly. “Wh-what do you mean?” she asked, hands shaking as she reached for the bottle of whiskey.  
  
He shot her a pointed look, taking the whiskey from her hands.  
  
“It was good money. It’s not like I care… not like it bothered me at all. I can take the pain. I’m good with it. It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she offered, reaching for the whiskey.  
  
Chibs held the bottle back, took a swig from it. “I get that, lass. I know you’re… you’re used to pain, to being on the receiving end of it. What I don’t get is why you’re sittin’ alone in the dark drinking if there isn’t somethae else botherin’ ye.”  
  
Aubree shook her head, tugged the bottle from out of his hands. With trembling hands, she brought the bottle to her lips, drinking hungrily.  
  
“Lass,” Chibs said calmly, placing a hand over hers. “Talk tae me. Please. I can’t help ye if ye don’ let me in.”

* * *

Aubree stared silently at him for several minutes, internally weighing the pros and cons of telling him the truth.  
  
“Filip,” she started, sighing heavily.  
  
“Aye?”  
  
“I’ve gotta tell you something.”  
  
“Everything alright?” he asked, looking concerned.  
  
Aubree shrugged, running her fingers nervously through her hair. “I… I don’t know how to say this.”  
  
He nodded encouragingly at her, taking her right hand in his and squeezing it gently.  
  
She pulled her hand from his, burying her face in her hands. “I might be sterile,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Filip frowned, unsure of what she’d said. “You might be wha’?” he asked, confused.  
  
“I don’t know if I can have children. My um… my reproductive system is all fucked up.”  
  
“Ye don’t know that for sure, though,” he countered, patting her hand gently.  
  
“I went to see a fertility specialist a few weeks ago… he uh, he said it’s pretty likely that I’m infertile, given my past medical history,” she elaborated, staring down at the table, avoiding his gaze.  
  
“What do ye mean by past medical history?”  
  
Aubree sighed, shaking her head. “I had Chlamydia that went untreated for three or four years… caused a lot of internal scarring. I have Endometriosis… that caused more scarring.” She paused, biting down nervously on her lower lip. “I also had an eating disorder for a long time… that didn’t really help things, I guess. I haven’t gotten my period in almost ten years. If you’re not menstruating, you aren’t ovulating… so… I can’t…” she trailed off, voice cracking as tears began to fall down her cheeks.  
  
Chibs slid out of his chair, pulling her up and into an embrace. “Shh,” he said soothingly, holding her tightly against him. “You’re alrigh’, lass.”  
  
“Why didnae ye tell me ye were goin’ to see a specialist?” he asked lowly.  
  
Aubree sighed. “I didn’t want you to know,” she said numbly, her body shaking slightly as tears continued to fall. “I wanted to know for sure, before I said anything. I know you… you want kids and I can’t… what the fuck kind of woman _am I_ if I can’t do the one thing a woman’s good for?”  
  
He pulled away from her suddenly, eyes widened in realization. “You did the torture porn shite because you were upset about _this_ , didnae ye?”  
  
Aubree nodded, staring down at her feet. “I’m not… I’m not great with feelings, Filip. I didn’t even think I _wanted_ kids. It was never part of the plan for me. I found out I may be infertile when I was I don’t know, twenty-one, twenty-two?”  
  
“Why didnae ye tell me, lass?”  
  
She sighed, staring down at the ground. “Chris always told me that no man would ever want me because of that… my being infertile. If a woman can’t give a man a child of his own, what good is she? I didn’t want to lose you,” she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.  
  
“Aubree,” he said sharply, catching her attention. “I love you. Regardless of whether or not you can have children. I love _you_. I donae care abou’ that, I just want you. Ye understand tha’, lass?”  
  
Aubree nodded, pressing her face against his shoulder, sighing into his embrace. “I love you,” she told him.  
  
“I didn’t realize until the doctor told me that it’s likely I can’t how badly I want kids,” she continued, her voice muffled. “I want to have a family. Me and you… a baby. I want a real family.”  
  
“There’s still a chance ye could, right?” Filip asked, gently rubbing her back.  
  
“Yeah… maybe,” she said, doubtfully.  
  
“Don’t worry yourself over this, lass. If it happens, it happens. I’ve got ye, alrigh’?”  
  
She nodded. “Okay.”  
  
“C’mon,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “it’s late. Let’s get you to bed.”  
  
Aubree allowed him to lead her upstairs, climbing into bed while he undressed. “It’s been lonely here, without you,” she told him, licking her lips as he tossed his shirt to the floor, began fiddling with his belt buckle.  
  
“I’m sorry, lass. Things will be easier once all this shite dies down, an’ the lads get out of the pen,” he told her, climbing into bed beside her.  
  
Aubree nodded, scooting over to rest her head on his chest. “I’m so tired,” she mumbled, stifling a yawn.  
  
“Get some rest, lass. I’m sure ye had a long night,” he told her, wrapping an arm protectively around her.  
  
“Night, Chibby,” she yawned, nuzzling closer to him.  
  
“Night lass.”

* * *

Aubree woke to a pounding headache. Groaning, she dragged herself out of bed, pulling on her favorite silk robe. She wandered into the bathroom, digging through the medicine cabinet for the vicodin she’d stashed away. She dispensed two pills into the palm of her hand, dry-swallowing them. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, frowning at the sight of mascara trailing down her cheeks. She considered washing her face, then decided against it. It could wait. Filip was already gone, likely back at the clubhouse for the day. Besides, coffee was needed. Everything else could wait until she’d gotten some caffeine into her system. Careful to not move her head too much, she dragged herself down the stairs, mentally preparing herself to deal with the inane task of preparing coffee. To her surprise, she found Filip seated at the kitchen table, smoking a cigarette and drinking a cup of tea.  
  
“What are you doing home?” she asked, confused by his presence.  
  
Filip smiled softly at her, motioning for her to take a seat on his lap. He placed his still smoldering cigarette in the ashtray, eyeing her expectantly.  
  
Aubree complied, reaching forward and taking a drag off the cigarette before passing it back to him.  
  
“Taking a few days… they owe me as much, considering all the shite I had to deal with during that run,” he replied easily, answering Aubree’s earlier question.  
  
Aubree turned to face him, shooting him a disbelieving look. “You’re not the sort to shirk off work, Filip Telford,” she countered.  
  
“Ope told me to take a few days. Spend some time with m’ girl,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.  
  
Aubree nodded, took a sip of his tea. She frowned at the strong taste. “I need coffee,” she mumbled.  
  
“I made ye a pot,” he told her, nodding in the direction of the coffeemaker.  
  
Aubree rose to her feet, quickly pouring herself a mug. She took a deep sip, savoring the warmth of the liquid as it slid down her throat. “You’re getting better at making a decent cup of coffee, babe,” she told him, joining him at the table.  
  
He beamed at her, taking a sip of his tea.  
  
Aubree sighed, rapping her fingernails anxiously against the table. “So listen, about what I said last night…”  
  
“We don’t havetae talk abou’ it if ye don’t wantae, lass.”  
  
Aubree nodded, took a deep sip from her mug.  
  
“Ye want toast or anythin’?”  
  
Aubree shook her head. “Nah. I’m good.”  
  
Chibs frowned at her. “Ye were pretty drunk last night, love. Should have a bite to eat with tha’ coffee.”  
  
Aubree frowned, staring coldly at him. “Filip, if this is about what I told you… that was a long time ago, I’m not-”  
  
“I already knew about yer eating disorder, Aub,” he interrupted.  
  
“How?” she snapped, shooting him a furious look.  
  
He shrugged. “Ye don’t really eat much, at all, Aub. Hard-pressed to think of any time I’ve even seen ye eatin’ anything besides a salad or yogurt.”  
  
“So I watch my weight, there’s nothing wrong with that-”  
  
“Ye’ve lost weight the past few months,” he countered, frowning.  
  
“No I haven’t.”  
  
Filip frowned, shook his head. “Ye think I’m daft, lass? A tiny thing like you, weighing all of a hundred pounds soaking wet… of course I’m gonnae notice when ye start droppin’ weight you don’t have to spare.”  
  
Aubree took a deep breath, struggling to maintain her composure. “I’m fine, Filip. I’m handling it.”  
  
She took a sip of her coffee, hands trembling. “I know I did this to myself. I have no one to blame for my infertility besides myself. I’m sorry, okay?”  
  
“What do you need from me?”  
  
Aubree looked up at him, taken aback. “What?” she asked, confused.  
  
“What do you need from me? How can I help you?”  
  
“It’s not your problem, Filip. I’ll sort myself out,” she said quietly, lowering her gaze back to her coffee.  
  
Chibs rolled his eyes, scoffing. “I certainly didnae help matters, lass. Everythin’ wit’ Fi and Ireland…” he trailed off, frowning.  
  
“Tara told you, didn’t she?”  
  
He paused for a moment, considering. “Aye,” he said finally, nodding.  
  
Aubree shook her head, rapping her fingernails against the table. “Figured. Look, Filip….” she started, glancing up at him, locking eyes with his. “This isn’t… I’m not… I’m just stressed, okay? I haven’t been taking great care of myself. For a lot of reasons. The shit with Chris. Luann’s death. The whole… fertility thing. I’m sad. I’m angry. And I’m not great with… with _feeling_ things, okay? So yeah, maybe I haven’t been paying much attention to things like _eating regularly_. But it’s not… it’s not like it was, before. When I was sick. It’s more just an attempt to dial down the pressure, numb out the pain.”  
  
“Like you were doing with the torture porn,” Chibs added, looking to her for affirmation.  
  
“Yeah,” she agreed, nodding.  
  
She frowned, biting her lip. “I’ve had a couple of shitty years, Filip. For a really long time, it was just me and Chris. He was… that was all I had. My family doesn’t talk to me. I lost any friends I had from college. I lost my career. He left me, and I was just… I was alone, again. And then I met you and…” she trailed off, wiping tears from her eyes. “You’re the first man who’s ever been _kind_ to me. You’re wonderful and I love you and I thought… I thought maybe I was wrong, maybe I _could_ have a family of my own. Have a husband… someone who thought me worthy enough of actually marrying me. And a baby. I don’t know how to cope with the possibility that that just might not be in the cards for me.”  
  
She paused for a moment, choking back a sob. “Is it really so much to ask? I’ve had so many disappointments in my life, lost so much. I’m so fucking tired of this, of all of this.”  
  
“Aubree,” he said soothingly, stroking her hair gently as he wrapped an arm around her waist. “You’re alright, lass.”  
  
“So what do we do?” she asked, her voice small, looking up to him expectantly.  
  
He shrugged, tilting her chin up to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “Why don’ we just try and see wha’ happens? Ye still on birth control?” he asked.  
  
Aubree shook her head. “No. I had my IUD removed.”  
  
“So we’ll try for a baby. It took Fi and I almost a year to have our Kerrianne,” he noted, shrugging.  
  
“Really?” Aubree asked, surprised.  
  
“Aye. Fi had a few miscarriages before we got pregnant.”  
  
Aubree nodded, processing his words. “So you think we should just try?” she asked.  
  
He nodded. “Doctors say a lot of shite, love. Just because you’re at high risk for infertility or wha’e’er they told ye, doesnae mean shite. No point worryin’ over somethin’ thas’ yet tae be proven.”


	21. Chapter 21

Aubree sighed wistfully as she examined a gorgeous shell pink wool tweed suit with delicate floral embroidery along the jacket lapels, hanging on display. _Not like you have any use for a Chanel suit in Charming, Aub_. Still, she allowed herself to admire the well-made garment, rubbing the luxuriously soft boucle wool between her fingers. _God, I missed this_. In her old life in LA, she’d regularly visited Chanel and other upscale stores. Why wouldn’t she? With her six-figure salary, she’d thought nothing of throwing down several thousand on a handful of cashmere sweaters, a handbag, a pair or six of pumps and boots. She’d finished a shoot in San Francisco early, and hadn’t been able to resist popping in to the Chanel boutique in the financial district of town.  
  
“Aubree. Aubree Burke?”  
  
Aubree froze at the sound of an all too familiar voice. _Regan_. Across the sales floor stood an all-too familiar blonde, dressed in a corporate-but-chic navy blue Hugo Boss wool skirt suit, paired with sensible nude colored Manolo Blahnik pumps.  
  
Aubree offered her former classmate a hurried wave, praying that she would take the hint and leave her alone. _Please don’t come talk to me._  
  
Aubree stood stiffly as Regan Newell, former classmate and bitter rival of hers in the court room, strode towards her, pulling her into an embrace.  
  
“I _thought_ that was you. What a lovely coincidence, running into you, Aubree,” the blonde drawled, lips pursed into what Aubree had long considered to be her signature look of a bitchy smirk.  
  
“Hey Regan,” Aubree replied, with forced cheerfulness.  
  
“I was so sorry to hear about… _you know_ ,” Regan said, not sounding the least bit sorry.  
  
“What brings you up here?” Aubree asked, arms folded against her chest. “I thought you were living in LA.”  
  
“I could say the same about you,” Regan retorted smoothly, smirking. “Though I can see why you _would_ want to leave LA, given everything that happened,” she continued, a faux-sympathetic look plastered on her face.  
  
“I’m _actually_ here for the Bloomberg Legal Summit. I’m a speaker this year,” Regan continued, smugly. “What brings you back to the Bay Area, Aub?” she pressed.  
  
Aubree nodded, a strained smile on her face. “I live here, again. LA was getting a little _tired_.”  
  
Regan nodded, shooting her a disbelieving look. “ _I’m sure_ ,” she replied, laughing. “And how have you been adjusting? I’m sure it’s been _difficult_ , moving on past all of the _unpleasantness_.”  
  
Aubree shrugged. “I’ve been fine. I’m certainly enjoying being back in the Bay Area,” she replied tersely, folding her arms against her chest. “And how have _you_ been, Regan?” she asked, feigning polite interest.  
  
“I’ve been doing great! I actually just made partner. Can you believe that?” the blonde asked, shooting Aubree a smug look.  
  
“That’s… great. Congrats, Regan,” Aubree retorted, a grin plastered on her face.  
  
“It’s funny how these things work out, isn’t it? Here I am, a partner in one of Los Angeles’ _top_ firms, and you, disbarred,” Regan continued, lips curled into a smirk.  
  
“Thank god for your looks, huh, Aub? I heard you’ve fallen back into porn. I’m sure that’s quite… _fulfilling_ ,” she added, snidely.  
  
Aubree opened her mouth to respond but stopped herself. “You know, I just realized, I need to get going,” she said, adjusting her handbag on her shoulder.  
  
“Needed on set?” Regan asked icily.  
  
Aubree shot her a frosty look, lips curled into a sneer.  
  
“I must say, I’m surprised to even find you here. I’d think you’d want to save your, ahem, _earnings_ , instead of spending it at Chanel,” she tsked, shaking her head in bemusement.  
  
“Always a pleasure, Regan,” Aubree spat, turning on her heel to leave.  
  
She blocked out the sound of Regan’s voice as she stormed out of the store, her body functioning on auto-pilot as she made her way to the parking garage.  
  
She sped out of the garage and back onto the highway at breakneck speed, her thoughts racing. Aubree gripped the steering wheel tighter, hands shaking. It had taken all of her restraint to keep her from attacking the obnoxious blonde. Angry tears trickled down her cheeks. While she wasn’t horribly surprised that her former classmate reveled in her misfortune, the blonde’s words had reopened still-healing wounds inside her; though almost two years had passed since she’d been disbarred, she had still not entirely come to terms with it, had not yet fully mourned her old life, what _could have been_. She stamped down on the accelerator, silently hoping that Chibs would be around and not out on another run for the club. _I’m gonna need to fuck the pain away from this old wound._

* * *

Aubree slammed her car door shut, storming towards the garage. To her great disappointment, Chibs’ bike was noticeably absent from the Teller-Morrow lot. She’d already driven by the house, and he wasn’t home, either. _Probably on a run_ , she thought bitterly. She paused, hands resting on her hips, as she considered her options.  
  
She removed her favored Glock from her purse, flicking the safety off. “I’m in the mood to destroy something,” she muttered darkly to herself, striding towards the storage shed on the Teller-Morrow property. Effortlessly, she shot a round at her desired target, hitting dead center in the ‘o’ of Teller-Morrow painted across the shed.  
  
“What’s going on?”  
  
Aubree turned to glance over her shoulder, finding two of the prospects approaching her, looking worried.  
  
“Everythin’ alright?” the first one, Phil, asked, eyeing her worriedly.  
  
“Just blowing off some steam,” she retorted evenly, shooting him a pointed look.  
  
“So you decided to shoot at our shed?” the other, Miles, asked, perplexed.  
  
She nodded in agreement. “Yeah.”  
  
“I would think you’d want an actual target to shoot at,” Phil noted, sounding confused by her logic.  
  
Aubree shrugged. “Had a good enough target on the shed,” she retorted, nodding towards the bullet holes.  
  
“She’s a better shot than you, Phil,” Miles noted, laughing.  
  
“Doesn’t explain why she’s shooting up our shed, though,” Phil retorted.  
  
“I used the last of my restraint refraining from shooting my bitch ex-colleague,” Aubree hissed, aiming at the shed once more and firing off three shots. She smirked victoriously as she once again hit her target.  
  
The two men watched her, warily, as she spun towards them, gun still drawn. “Where’s Chibs?” she asked.  
  
Miles shrugged. “Dunno. Haven’t seen him all day. Might wanna ask Kozik. He’s in the clubhouse.”  
  
Aubree sighed. “Alright.” She grabbed her purse, which she’d abandoned on the ground at her feet, tossing her gun back inside. The initial rush of adrenaline fading, she grabbed her purse by the handles, slowly trudging towards the clubhouse.

* * *

As Miles had said, she found Kozik behind the bar of the clubhouse, casually throwing back a shot of whiskey.  
  
“Where’s Chibs?” she asked, glumly.  
  
“Out on a run with Ope. Everything alright, darlin’?”  
  
Aubree shrugged, settled down on a stool at the bar. “Just keep the whiskey coming, alright?”  
  
Kozik raised his eyebrows but said nothing, obeying the redhead. He’d learned before that it was best not to press when she was in a mood.  
  
“How long are they gonna be gone?” she asked, swirling the amber contents of her glass.  
  
“Should be back tomorrow or the next day. Short run, this time, up to Oregon.”  
  
Aubree nodded tersely. “I see.”  
  
“You sure everything’s alright?” Kozik asked.  
  
Aubree shot him a pointed look. “Just a bad day,” she snapped, slamming her glass down.  
  
“Did somethin’ happen at your shoot?” he asked, eyeing her worriedly.  
  
Aubree sighed, covering her face with her hands. Ever since the torture porn incident, all of the guys had been overly concerned with her safety, always checking in after shoots to make sure she was alright. _Probably at Chibs’ request_ , she thought, rolling her eyes. While she appreciated the sentiment on her old man’s behalf, it was still annoying. She wasn’t weak, she could take care of herself. It was more of a question of whether or not she _wanted_ to.  
  
“Aub?”  
  
“Yeah, the shoot went fine,” Aubree sighed, shrugging. She reached for her glass, taking a swig. “Ran into an old classmate of mine. Just… I don’t know. She got under my skin, I guess.”  
  
Kozik nodded, topped off her glass.  
  
She murmured a thanks, bringing the glass to her lips.  
  
The two sat in silence for a while, each focused on taking the occasional sip from their glasses.  
  
“I mostly try not to think about all of it, you know?” she said finally, staring down into her glass.  
  
“It’s better that way, easier. I don’t like thinking about it, how fucking stupid I was, doing what I did. For _him_. It’s humiliating. I threw away my entire life, my career that I loved, for…” she trailed off, choking back tears.  
  
“We all have shit from our past that we’re not proud of, Aub,” Kozik said quietly.  
  
Aubree glanced up at him, taking note of the frown etched on his face, his downcast eyes. “What’s your story, Kozik?” she asked, curiously.  
  
“Ex-junkie. Heroin. I got out of the Marines and everything just went to shit. I wasted a lot of years, did a lot of horrible things because of it,” he said softly, not meeting her eyes.  
  
“You got yourself out of all that shit, though. You survived it,” Aubree noted, placing a hand over his.  
  
He nodded. “Yeah. And you will, too. Time heals all wounds, Aub.”  
  
Aubree shrugged. “I guess. It’s just…” she shrugged, reached for her drink.  
  
“It’s still a fresh wound. I get it.”  
  
Aubree nodded, drained the contents of her glass. “Have they voted you in, yet?” she asked.  
  
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m SAMCRO now.”  
  
“That’s good.”  
  
“Gem’s having everyone over for dinner tonight.”  
  
Aubree observed him curiously. “I was thinkin’ about just calling it an early night, getting some rest. Kind of tired.”  
  
“Have you eaten today, Aub?”  
  
Aubree shot him a thinly veiled look of disgust. _Of course_ , Filip had said something to his brothers. _Of fucking course_. As if it wasn’t enough that he hovered over her when he was around, silently observing what and if she ate. She knew he was just trying to help. Christ, of course a man like Filip knew nothing about eating disorders, didn’t understand any of it. He was just doing what he always did, looking after her, because she was _his_. Admittedly, she knew that she _should_ eat. Logistically, she knew the consequences of not eating. For fuck’s sake, they were trying to get pregnant. Skipping meals wasn’t going to help her fertility, that was for damn sure.  
  
“Dinner sounds good. You think you could give me a lift over to Gem’s? Probably shouldn’t be driving after drinking on an empty stomach,” she retorted, sighing heavily.  
  
Kozik nodded, looking relieved. “Yeah, sure.”

* * *

Aubree picked at her salad, listening halfheartedly as Lyla and Tara discussed Lyla’s wedding plans.  
  
“Have you set a date yet?” Aubree asked, feeling Gemma’s eyes on her, as she’d been noticeably quiet all evening.  
  
“We’re thinking once the guys get released,” Lyla replied, shrugging. “It’s not gonna be anything too big. Ope just really wants Jax to be there.”  
  
Aubree nodded, stabbing at her salad. Her stomach roiled in protest as she brought a forkful to her lips. She ignored it, swallowing it down with a sip of water.  
  
“How was your shoot today, anyway?” Lyla asked, eyeing her curiously.  
  
Aubree shrugged. “It was fine.”  
  
The two prospects exchanged looks. “I don’t know about that,” Miles said, shaking his head.  
  
“What do you mean by that?” Gemma asked, shooting the man a dark stare.  
  
“She put a round of bullets through the shed at T-M,” Phil replied.  
  
Aubree stared down at her plate, shoulders hunched forward.  
  
“They’re just mad that Aubree’s a better shot than the two of them combined,” Kozik laughed, clapping her on the shoulder.  
  
“You’d be proud, Gem. Girl’s got killer aim,” he added, smiling at the club matriarch.  
  
“I knew I liked you,” Gemma laughed, shooting Aubree a warm look.  
  
“Thanks,” Aubree muttered quietly, shooting the blond a grateful look.  
  
“No prob.”  
  
“What happened?” Tara asked, shooting Aubree a concerned look.  
  
“Ran into an old classmate. She just got under my skin a little. It’s fine,” she shrugged.  
  
The brunette nodded in understanding. “Listen, I’ve got a consult tomorrow morning that I can’t reschedule… do you think you could give Gemma a lift to the sheriff’s station? She’s getting her ankle monitor off.”  
  
“Yeah, of course,” Aubree agreed.  
  
“Thanks.”

* * *

“Bet you’re excited to be getting _that_ off,” Aubree noted, adjusting her sunglasses as she pulled out of Gemma’s driveway.  
  
“You have no idea,” Gemma retorted, lighting a cigarette. “Fucking house arrest. It’ll be nice to be able to handle my own shopping and look after TM.”  
  
“I’ve done my best to keep things organized,” Aubree offered. “Though I can’t promise that Piney hasn’t fucked something up with the bookkeeping when I wasn’t around.”  
  
Gemma laughed, shaking her head. “I know you have, sweetheart. The boys say you’ve been a huge help down there, keeping the place running.”  
  
Aubree shrugged, waved her hand dismissively. “Just doing what I can to help.”  
  
Gemma nodded, smiling fondly at her. “Chibs found himself a fine old lady.”  
  
Aubree smiled. “He’s a good man. I’m lucky to have him.”  
  
“You two thinking about kids?” Gemma asked.  
  
Aubree nodded, lips pursed together. With one hand on the wheel, she fiddled with her purse, reaching for her cigarettes. “Yeah, we’re trying for one,” she affirmed, lighting up and inhaling deeply.  
  
“Everything alright, sweetheart?”  
  
Aubree froze, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Yeah, of course. Why?” she asked, nervously.  
  
“You seemed distracted at dinner last night, quieter than usual,” Gemma observed coolly, taking a drag off her own cigarette.  
  
“It was just a bad day.”  
  
Gemma shot her a disbelieving look. “Mhmm.”  
  
“I ran into this bitch from college… she was kind of my rival in law school and once we were both graduated, in the court room. She really rubbed it in my face that I got disbarred, how she’s thriving in her career while I’ve got nothing.”  
  
“You don’t need to take shit from some dumb bitch like that. You’re a Son’s old lady… it’s like I’ve told Tara… you’ve got a lot of pull in this town. In this area, in general. People need to show you respect,” Gemma noted.  
  
“I couldn’t exactly pull a gun on her in the middle of a boutique in San Francisco, Gem. She’s a lawyer… she’d have me pulled in by the cops for assault in less than an hour,” Aubree replied, shaking her head.  
  
“Fair enough,” Gemma agreed, flicking her spent butt out the window. “We don’t need another one of us behind bars.”  
  
Aubree laughed. “Exactly.”  
  
“You miss it, being a lawyer?”  
  
Aubree nodded. “It just stung, having her reopen old wounds. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that _that_ chapter of my life is over. My career was everything to me… losing that… it still hurts. Having someone rub in my face that she’s thriving while I’m so obviously _not_...” she trailed off, frowning.  
  
“Just because you’re not a lawyer anymore doesn’t mean you don’t have a good life, sweetheart,” Gemma noted, placing a gentle hand on her arm.  
  
Aubree shrugged. “I know,” she said, her tone uncertain.  
  
“So you’re not a lawyer anymore, so fuckin’ what? You’ve got a man who worships the ground you walk on. You make good money working in porn… there’s no shame in that. If Luann taught you anything, I’d hope it would have been to never let uptight bitches make you feel ashamed of your profession. You’ve got family in this club who will _always_ have your back. You’re beautiful and you’re going to start a family of your own. You’re doing just fine, dear.”  
  
“Thanks Gem.”


	22. Chapter 22

Chibs arrived home from the run in Oregon to find Aubree sprawled out in the tub, half-conscious.

“Everything alright, lass?” he asked, leaning against the frame of the doorway.

“Just _fantastic_ ,” she slurred, sinking lower into the tub.

Chibs took a step closer, watching her warily. If the nearly empty whiskey bottle on the floor and the residue of ground up pills on the bathroom counter were any indication, the girl was well on her way to blacking out.

“So what happened?”

“Oh god… where do I start?” she mumbled, brows furrowed.

Chibs shrugged, sat down on the floor beside the tub. “From the beginning, I s’pose,” he offered, taking her hand in his, pressing a kiss to the top of her hand.

“I ran into _Regan_ the other day ,” she replied, lips twisting into a scowl as she said the woman’s name.

Chibs nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“We went to law school together. Had a number of cases I presented in court against her… kind of my rival, I guess,” she muttered, taking a swig of whiskey.

“I take that wasn’t pleasant.”

“That’s the understatement of the century… she made partner. _Partner_. And what am I doing? I’m making porn.”

“Does she know you-”

“Yeah. She knew. Rubbed it in my face that I got disbarred. Fucking cunt. I wanted to put a bullet between her eyes. Right in the middle of Chanel.”

Chibs frowned as he saw her sink lower into the tub, the water grazing her lips. “Why don’ we get ye out of the tub, lass? Water’s gone cold, anyway,” he suggested, rising to his feet.

Aubree shrugged, allowing him to lift her out of the chilly water, wrap a towel around her lithe form. He pulled her into an embrace from behind, squeezing her gently. “Glad ye had some restraint, lass. Last thing we need is you behind bars, too.”

Aubree laughed weakly, shaking her head. “Gemma said the same thing... I put a round into the shed at T-M, instead.”

“Yeah, I heard… the lads were impressed with your accuracy.”

Aubree grinned. “At least I’m good at somethin’.”

“You’re good at plenty,” he told her, nipping at her neck. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed. It’s late, lass,” he told her, guiding her back into the bedroom.

Aubree stumbled a bit, clumsily changing into a nightgown before crawling into bed. She watched as Chibs undressed, sighing contently once he slid into bed beside her. “I missed you,” she told him, resting her head against his chest.

“Missed ye too, Aub.”

Aubree sighed heavily, tangling her fingers with his.

“Anythin’ else happen, lass?”

She shrugged. “Took Gemma to get her ankle monitor off.”

“Ah. An’ how was tha’?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“It was fine,” she sighed, nuzzling his neck. “You know somethin’?”

“What’s that, lass?”

“Everything that happened… the shit with Chris, getting disbarred… everything. As horrible as it was, I don’t regret it happening.”

“You don’t?” Chibs asked, perplexed. “And why is that?”

“Because it brought me to you,” she said quietly, pressing a trail of kisses down his neck.

Chibs smiled fondly at the redhead, pulling her closer for a kiss. “I love ye, Aubree,” he told her, accent thick as he held her tightly against him.

“Love you too.”

* * *

Aubree stared straight ahead, lips pressed firmly together as she struggled to listen to what her doctor was explaining to her. She squeezed Tara’s hand, who was sitting beside her, watching her with a worried expression. _Miscarriage_. She’d had a miscarriage. The night prior, Aubree had woken to find her sheets stained crimson. Even before calling Tara, she’d known. _You don’t start spontaneously bleeding this heavily unless you’re having a miscarriage_.   
  
“Ms. Burke?”  
  
Aubree shook her head, struggling to clear her thoughts to focus on the man seated across from her. “Yes?” she asked, her tone devoid of emotion.  
  
“The scan and blood work concluded that you are no longer pregnant. You were about six weeks along, correct?” the doctor asked.  
  
Aubree nodded glumly. “Yeah,” she affirmed, feeling detached from the situation.  
  
The doctor resumed speaking, but Aubree tuned him out, lost in her own thoughts. _At least I don’t have to explain to Filip that I miscarried_ , she thought, shaking her head.   
  
She continued to zone out, lost in her own thoughts, while the doctor and Tara continued to speak. Once they finished, she allowed herself to be led out of the office by Tara, out to the parking lot. “Aubree,” Tara said softly, lightly shaking her shoulder. “You with me?”  
  
“Yeah,” Aubree said lowly, avoiding her gaze. She couldn’t help but wince at the sight of the doctor’s rounded stomach; Tara was due in two weeks.   
  
“Are you okay?” Tara asked, eyeing her with concern.  
  
Aubree shrugged. “Yeah. I mean… nothing I can do about it, right?” she replied, shaking her head.   
  
“Go ahead and light up, I’m sure you could use a smoke after _all this_ ,” Tara told her, gesturing at the redhead.   
  
“I stopped smoking when I found out…” Aubree trailed off, her voice cracking. She allowed Tara to pull her into an embrace, sobbing against the doctor’s shoulder while she stroked her hair.   
  
Once she had calmed down some, Aubree pulled away, absently running her fingers through her hair. “Guess we should get out of here,” she said finally, sighing.  
  
“Do you want me to call Chibs, let him know?” Tara offered.   
  
Aubree shook her head. “No. There’s no point.”  
  
“And why is that?”  
  
“He doesn’t know I was pregnant.”  
  
“You didn’t tell him?” Tara asked, surprised.  
  
“Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t, huh?” she scoffed. “I didn’t tell him because I wanted to be sure it was viable first.”  
  
“You sure you want to go home? You could stay at mine for a few days,” Tara offered.  
  
Aubree shook her head. “Nah, I’ll be alright. Besides, you’re due any day now. I don’t need to be stressing you out with my shit.”  
  
“I’m sorry you lost the baby, Aubree. I know you wanted-”  
  
”It’s fine,” Aubree interrupted, sighing. “I just want to go home and change my sheets and try and move on with my life. Filip will be home at the end of the week. It gives me some time to get myself together and put my game face on.”

* * *

Aubree arrived at the clubhouse, surprised to find Chibs’ bike in the lot. _He said he wouldn’t be home from Indian Hills until tomorrow_. She frowned, struggling to recall when he’d told her he’d be back home. Still, she supposed, it was always possible he’d arrived home early. And to be fair, he didn’t always go right home after runs. It was fairly common for the guys to stop in at the clubhouse, be it for Chapel or just to unwind with their brothers before heading home. Swiftly, she swung the clubhouse door open, finding a party in full-swing. She carefully scanned the room, looking for Chibs. She froze, taken aback, as she caught sight of him. Sitting in a booth in a secluded corner of the clubhouse, some random crow eater skank on her knees before him, sucking him off. Aubree clenched her fists tightly at her sides, willing herself to remain calm. She watched as Filip’s hands guided the girl’s head down, completely oblivious to her presence. Aubree took a deep breath, her heart hammering in her chest. One part of her wanted nothing more than to march right over to them and grab the girl by her hair, knock her the fuck. _Fuck him. Seriously. Fuck. Him._ Blinking back tears that threatened to fall at any moment, she turned on her heel, exiting the club. She strode angrily towards where Chibs’ bike was parked, digging her gun from out of her purse. Without hesitation, she fired a bullet into each tire, kicking it for good measure.   
  
With that finished, she returned to her car, gripping the steering wheel tightly. All of her basic instincts urged her to flee, to pack a bag and get as far away from Charming as she could. She shook her head, willing herself to exude a calmness she didn’t feel. Barely aware of her actions, she started the car, leaving the clubhouse, heading towards Gemma’s. 

* * *

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” Gemma asked, eyeing Aubree with concern.  
  
“Can I come in?” she asked, her eyes downcast as she stood on Gemma’s doorstep, shivering slightly from the evening chill.  
  
Gemma quickly ushered her in, motioning for Aubree to follow her into the kitchen, where she began to brew a pot of coffee.  
  
Aubree observed Gemma as she efficiently prepared the coffee, in awe of the grace with which the club matriarch carried herself. “Thanks,” she said politely, as Gemma placed a mug of coffee before her. She took a deep sip, appreciating the warmth of the beverage.  
  
“Can I ask you something?” Aubree asked lowly, once Gemma was seated at the table.  
  
“Sure, of course.”  
  
“How do you deal with this? All this shit that comes with… with club life?” Aubree asked, gripping her coffee mug tightly.   
  
“Think you could be a little more specific, hon?”  
  
“How do you deal with the infidelity? I don’t understand how I’m just supposed to be okay with it…” she trailed off, taking a sip of her coffee.  
  
“What happened?” Gemma asked, lips pressed firmly together.  
  
“Chibs said he wouldn’t be home from the run down to Indian Hills until tomorrow… stopped by the club and saw him getting his dick sucked by some crow eater,” Aubree replied, unable to keep the bitterness from out of her tone.  
  
“And you didn’t just march right over and grab the skank by the hair?” Gemma asked, a single eyebrow risen.   
  
“I thought about it but…” she sighed, shaking her head. “I can’t do this, Gem. I thought… I know he’s a man and that of course he was probably out doing _god knows what_ when he’s away but… it’s a whole other goddamn thing to be doing this right under my fucking nose. It’s humiliating.”  
  
Aubree took a deep breath, lips quivering as tears threatened to fall.   
  
“Men are like dogs. You have to train them, break them in, to get them to obey you,” Gemma said, lips pursed together.   
  
“And how do you do that?” Aubree asked, intrigued.  
  
Gemma shrugged. “Depends. Different tactics work for different men. With Clay, when I caught him banging some barely legal pussy, I stabbed him. When I found out JT was banging some slut in Ireland, I started fucking his best friend.”  
  
“I’m tired of doing that shit, Gem. I’m so fucking tired of it…” Aubree sighed, staring down into her mug.  
  
“Somethin’ else bothering you, Aub?”  
  
Aubree lowered her head further, lips pressed firmly together.  
  
“Aub,” Gemma said gently, placing a reassuring hand over her own.  
  
“I had a miscarriage,” Aubree said finally, her voice quivering as she uttered the words.  
  
“When?” Gemma asked, eyeing the redhead with concern.  
  
“A few days ago. Filip doesn’t know…”  
  
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Gemma said softly, rising to her feet. She pulled Aubree into an embrace, patting the younger woman’s back as Aubree burst into tears.  
  
“Guess it’s for the best… I didn’t even tell him I was pregnant. It was early on… six weeks, maybe. Didn’t want to jinx it until I was sure it was viable..” Aubree trailed off, shrugging.   
  
“Does anyone-”  
  
“Tara knows. She took me to the hospital to get checked out after it happened,” Aubree retorted, sighing.  
  
Gemma nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. “Jesus Christ… you should stay here tonight. You can decide what you want to do next after you’ve gotten some sleep.”

* * *

The next morning, Aubree woke to find Gemma joined by Lyla and Tara, drinking coffee in the kitchen.   
  
“Morning,” Gemma greeted her, smiling warmly.   
  
“Hey,” Aubree replied lowly, quickly pouring herself a mug of coffee before joining the trio at the table. “What’re you guys doing here?”  
  
“Gemma said there was an incident…” Lyla offered, smiling sympathetically.   
  
“I think I’m gonna get out of town for a little while. Take a few days to clear my head,” Aubree announced, eyes focused on her coffee mug in front of her.   
  
“Where would you go?” Tara asked, curious.   
  
Aubree shrugged. “I don’t know. LA, maybe. I could go see my parents down in Santa Barbara… give them the opportunity to berate their absolute failure of a daughter,” she mused, laughing bitterly.  
  
Tara and Gemma exchanged looks. “You going to tell Chibs you’re leaving?” Gemma asked.  
  
Again, Aubree shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on it. He seemed pretty preoccupied last night, I doubt he’ll even notice.”  
  
“He’ll be worried if you just go missing, Aub,” Lyla noted, frowning. “I mean… unless you’re talking about _leaving him_ leaving him.”  
  
Aubree sighed. “I don’t know _what_ I want to do,” she admitted, folding her arms against her chest. “All I know is I can’t talk to him right now. If I had to face him, I’d spit in his face for being such a fucking asshole.”  
  
The women nodded, waiting for her to continue.  
  
“Look. I know I’m stupid for thinking he’d really be loyal. I get it. They’re bikers. This is part of club life. The guys get to screw around while their old lady looks the other way. I know this. But just because it’s part of this life doesn’t mean I have to _like_ it. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. We deserve some fucking respect, some goddamn loyalty. You think _they_ would turn the other cheek if they saw us fucking some other guy? Hell no. It’s one thing to fuck some bar skank on the road but it’s a whole different story to let a fucking crow eater suck you off in the middle of the clubhouse, where anyone, including your _girlfriend_ can walk in and see. It’s humiliating.”  
  
“And I know that I’m probably getting more worked up about this than I would under different circumstances. But I’m still hormonal and I just… I can’t. I can’t face this right now, okay?”  
  
Tara nodded, patting Aubree on the shoulder, in a comforting gesture. “Take a few days to clear your head. We get it. You’ve had a lot happen the past few days. If you need some time to process things and decide what your next step is, you should go for it.”  
  
“I think I’m gonna go for a drive… I’ll let you know what my game plan is once I have one,” she offered, rising to her feet.  
  
“You could use the cabin if you want to get away for a little while,” Gemma offered.  
  
Aubree sighed, burying her face in her hands. “I don’t know,” she muttered, her voice muffled. “I don’t know what to do. I’m just so fucking tired.”

* * *

She strode out to the front porch, Gemma right behind her. Hands trembling, she lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. “You gonna leave him?” Gemma asked bluntly, lighting a cigarette as well.  
  
Aubree shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m pissed, though.”  
  
Gemma nodded, exhaling a plume of smoke. “You should at least tell him you know. You don’t have to forgive him, right away. You’re a lot tougher than most of the girls that come round here. I like that. You’re not quick to take your old man’s shit. Like I told you last night, men are weak. You have to train them to learn that there are consequences to their actions.”  
  
“Maybe,” Aubree replied, doubtfully.  
  
“Chibs is a good guy. But he’s still a man, Aubree. It’s in their nature to give in to temptation. You know damn well those skanks throw themselves at the guys.”  
  
Aubree sighed heavily, blowing a smoke ring. “I don’t know what to do, Gem.”  
  
Gemma offered her a sympathetic smile, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, sweetheart.”


	23. Chapter 23

“What are you doing here, Aub?”  
  
Aubree shrugged, lips pursed together as she stared across the small metal table at Juice, who was eyeing her worriedly. “I um… I think Chibs and I are _over_ ,” she said finally, her voice raspy.  
  
After leaving Gemma’s she’d driven around for a few hours, crying. Without even realizing she was doing so, she’d found herself driving towards Stockton. She’d come to see Juice as something akin to a friend during her time associating with the club, and couldn’t help but want to discuss the matter with him; should she stay or should she go.   
  
“Why?”  
  
“Walked in on him getting sucked off by some crow eater,” Aubree retorted, folding her arms against her chest.  
  
”Jesus…” Juice muttered, shaking his head.   
  
“I told him, Juice. I fuckin’ told him if he did this shit again, I’d walk.”  
  
Juice frowned. “Aubs… don’t you think you should be talkin’ to him about this?” he asked, gently.  
  
“If I faced him right now, I’d be joining you behind bars, Juicy,” she retorted, frowning.   
  
The two sat in silence for a few minutes, Aubree toying with the ends of her hair.  
  
“Do you _want_ to be done?” Juice asked, breaking the silence.  
  
Aubree sighed. “I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t… I love him. I do. I just… I can’t stay with someone who doesn’t respect me enough to be faithful.”  
  
Juice nodded, remaining silent.  
  
“I know Gem and the girls say that it’s just club life, that this is how it is… but _fuck that_. I know my fucking worth, Juice. And I deserve better.”  
  
“Does he even know that you know about this?”  
  
“Probably. I shot out his tires before I left,” Aubree noted.  
  
“He hasn’t tried calling you?”  
  
Aubree shrugged. “I turned my phone off.”  
  
“Jesus,” Juice muttered, rubbing his face with his hands.  
  
“What should I do, Juice?”  
  
He pressed his lips together, eyeing her warily. “Why are ya askin’ me, Aub?”  
  
Aubree shook her head, blinking away tears that had begun to form in her eyes. “You’ve always been straight with me. Acted like a… like a friend is supposed to treat someone. I value your opinion,” she said softly, lips quivering as she struggled to hold back tears.  
  
“Aubree… are you okay?”  
  
She shook her head, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks. “No. No, I’m not okay, Juice,” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands.  
  
Juice made to reach out, to console her, but stopped, catching sight of the guard watching him sternly. “Aubree, I’m sorry,” he said, kicking himself internally for not knowing what else to say to her.  
  
“How could he do this to me, again, Juice? He promised me… he promised he was done with the lying and the… the fucking infidelity. Why would he do this?”  
  
“I dunno, Aub. He’s… he wasn’t thinkin’, the guys in the club… you know how it is… not that it’s right… it’s just… the temptation is always present,” Juice replied, stumbling on his words.  
  
“Like I wasn’t already having a horrible enough week. I had a fuckin’ miscarriage… then I walk in and see this? Like haven’t I already suffered enough?” Aubree continued, erupting into another fit of tears.  
  
“Wait, what?” Juice asked, freezing. “You were pregnant?”  
  
Aubree nodded, sniffling, tears continuing to run down her cheeks. “Yeah. I _was_. Lost the baby at six weeks.”  
  
Juice winced. “Does Chibby know you lost it?”  
  
“He doesn’t even know I was pregnant,” Aubree retorted, frowning.  
  
“I’m sorry Aubree. I’m so sorry,” Juice told her, shaking his head.   
  
“What should I do, Juice?” she asked, almost pleadingly.  
  
Juice sighed, considering his response. “Honestly… you need to do what’s right for you. Chibs is my brother, I love him. But… as much as I know that you leaving would hurt him, I can’t say I’d blame you if you did.”  
  
Aubree nodded, processing his words.  
  
“Maybe just take some time… some time away. If that’s what you need.”  
  
Aubree nodded. “Thanks, Juice.”  
  
“You should at least tell him you need a break before you go, if that’s what you’re going to do,” he told her, sighing.  
  
Aubree sighed. “Okay.”

* * *

Aubree arrived home to find Chibs waiting in the kitchen, drinking and smoking a cigarette.  
  
“Where’ve you been?” he asked, eyeing her with concern as she entered the room, throwing her purse on the kitchen counter.   
  
“Just… out…” she replied dully, tilting her head as Chibs made to kiss her, so that his lips landed on her cheek instead of her lips.  
  
During her drive back home from Stockton, the anger and despair she’d had coursing through her had ebbed, leaving her with a general feeling of listlessness.   
  
“Yer phone was off,” Chibs noted, brow furrowed with concern.  
  
“Yeah… I turned it off,” she replied, reaching for the bottle of whiskey before him, taking a swig.  
  
“Everything alright, lass?”  
  
Aubree stared at him a moment, considering. “No,” she said lowly, shaking her head. “No. It’s not.”  
  
“What’s-”  
  
“Tell me what happened last night,” Aubree interrupted, eyes watery. “Tell me.”  
  
“What’re ye on about, lass? Nothin’ happened last night. Got in early from the run and crashed at the club, tha’s all,” he replied evenly, shrugging.  
  
Aubree nodded, blinking back tears. “Okay,” she said softly, lips quivering as she spoke.  
  
Without another word, she turned away, heading up the stairs. Silently, she packed a bag, barely aware of her actions. She pulled items off of hangers, carelessly shoving garments into her Louis Vuitton Keepall duffel and 4 wheeled carry-on suitcase. Once satisfied that she’d packed enough to last her however long she planned on staying away, she grabbed her bags, dragging them down the stairs.   
  
“What’s going on?” Chibs asked, taken aback by the luggage in her hands, as she retrieved her purse from the kitchen.  
  
“I told you, Filip,” she started, her voice eerily calm, “lie to me again, and I’m walking. I can’t do this, right now. I fucking saw you last night… you and that crow eater,” she paused, wiping tears from her eyes. “I can’t be here, right now.”  
  
“Aubree-”  
  
“Don’t,” she told him, interrupting. “Whatever you were going to say, just _don’t_. I love you, Filip… Believe me, I do. But _this_ … I can’t. I need some time.”  
  
“Aubree…”  
  
“Can you answer me something, Filip? Just one thing… just… be honest with me… for once.”  
  
“Wha’ is it, lass?”  
  
“Was she the first one you were seeing behind my back? Or were there others?” Aubree asked, her voice barely above a whisper.   
  
Chibs opened his mouth to respond but remained silent, unable to bring himself to answer.  
  
Aubree nodded sharply, tears forming in her eyes. “Yeah… I thought so,” she said, face crumbling as she turned her gaze away from him.  
  
“Aubree, please… lass, I love ye-”  
  
“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done that,” Aubree retorted, her tone flat, lacking any emotion. “I need some space, Filip. Don’t call me.”  
  
“Lass please, listen, I’m sorry-” “Yeah. I’m sorry, too,” she retorted, cutting him off. “I can’t be here right now. I can’t.”  
  
“Why? We can work this out, lass. I swear, just… just tell me what ye need and I’ll do it, anything.”  
  
“If I stay here, I will put a fucking gun to your head and pull the trigger,” she retorted icily.   
  
“Aubree, love, please,” he begged, placing a hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Don’t. Touch me,” she warned, pulling away from him.  
  
“Aub-”  
  
“Don’t. I told you this would happen, Filip. I told you. All I asked was for your loyalty in return for my own. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t respect me enough to give me that. I’m sorry.”  
  
“But lass-”  
  
”Goodbye, Filip,” she told him, grabbing her bags, making towards the door.  
  
“Lass, please-”  
  
His pleas fell on deaf ears as Aubree continued out the door, not looking back. She avoided his gaze as she backed out of the driveway, waiting until she was a block away to let her tears begin to flow once more.

* * *

“I’m going out of town for a little while.”  
  
“Aubree? Where are you going? Does Chibs know?” Gemma asked, sounding concerned.  
  
“Yeah. I told him I’m leaving,” she confirmed, steering with one hand as she held her phone to her ear.  
  
“Where are you gonna go, hon?”  
  
Aubree sighed. “I don’t know… I just need to get out of Charming for now. I’ll figure it out.”  
  
”What exactly did you tell him?” Gemma asked.  
  
Aubree sighed, instinctively reaching for her cigarettes from her center console. She fumbled around with her phone, lighting a cigarette before bringing the phone back to her ear. “I told him I saw him with that skank. Gave him the chance to come clean about it, first. He lied. Out and out lied to my face. So I packed my bags and told him I was leaving.”  
  
“For good?”  
  
Aubree inhaled deeply on her cigarette, taking her time exhaling the smoke before responding. “ I said I needed some time. I don’t know, Gem. I don’t know what I want to do, yet.”  
  
“You can always just lay low at mine if you want, sweetheart. No need to go skulking back around in LA, just because you need time. I know you’re pissed.”  
  
“Thanks Gem, but I think I need some time alone to just clear my head. Maybe after I’m a little calmer, I’ll take you up on the offer, but for now… I need to do this.”  
  
“Keep in touch, alright? Things being how they are… it won’t put anyone’s mind at ease if you go radio silent on us,” Gemma said sternly. “We love you, kid.”  
  
“Thanks Gem.”  
  
Aubree ended the call, taking another drag off her cigarette. _Where to go_. She’d been driving towards San Francisco, for lack of a better direction. _Guess I could spend a night or two there, figure out a game plan._

* * *

Gemma knocked on Chibs’ front door, frowning. Two days had passed since Aubree had left town, and no one from the club had heard from Chibs since. After calling numerous times, only to be sent straight to voicemail, Gemma had taken it upon herself to drive over to his place, if only to ensure he was still alive. After several minutes of waiting, she decided to try to doorknob, finding it unlocked. She let herself inside, unnerved by the silence of the house. Gemma had known Chibs for a long time. She’d seen the Scot in the midst of bitter rages, witnessed his violent temper. To find the home tidy as ever and so _silent_ was… worrisome. “Chibs, you home, hon?” she called out, slowly walking into the kitchen.  
  
She found Chibs seated at the table, scotch bottle in hand, eyes glazed over as he stared blankly at the wall. “Chibs,” she repeated, gently shaking the Scot’s shoulder.   
  
“She left, Gem,” Chibs said, choking back a sob. “She really left.”  
  
Gemma sighed, taking a seat beside him at the table. “She’ll be back, sweetheart. You know that. She loves you.”  
  
“Shouldae known she’s a woman o’ her word… she told me… after e’rythin’ wi’ Fi… she told me if it ‘appened again, she’d walk,” he continued, his accent heavy, breath reeking of booze.  
  
“She was already having a bad week… of course seeing that would put her over the edge,” Gemma noted, patting his hand sympathetically.  
  
“Wha’ d’ya mean by tha’?” Chibs asked, brows furrowed in confusion.  
  
Gemma paused, taken aback by his confusion. “She… she didn’t tell you, did she?”  
  
“Tell me wa’?”  
  
Gemma froze. “Um… nothing just… forget I said anything,” she stammered, biting her lip.  
  
“Gem. Tell me. Wha’ happened tae her tha’ was so bad?” he asked, pleadingly.  
  
Gemma sighed, pressing her lips together. “She had a miscarriage. Earlier this week, while you were out on a run. She’s taking it pretty hard.”  
  
Chibs stared at her, processing what she’d said. “She was…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Jesus… Jesus fuckin’ Christ…”   
  
“I thought she told you. I’m sorry, baby,” Gemma said softly, patting his shoulder as he brought the liquor bottle to his lips, taking a long swig.  
  
“No wonder she left me… I deserve it. She was carryin’ our child and I was out… I fucked up, Gem.”  
  
Gemma remained silent, offering him a sympathetic look.  
  
“I really fucked it up this time, didnae I? I don’ deserve fer her tae take me back.”  
  
“Give her time, baby. She loves you. She’s hurting, though,” Gemma told him, sighing heavily.  
  
“What do I do?”  
  
“I wish I knew, hon. This is something you’ve gotta fix on your own.”  
  
Chibs nodded, staring miserably down at his hands.  
  
“For starters, stay the hell away from those filthy crow eaters. Honestly… I thought you of all people had enough brains about you to know better than to fool around with that trash, especially now that you’ve got yourself an old lady. A _good_ one, at that.”  
  
“It’s been a long time, Gem,” Chibs retorted, shrugging.  
  
“That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it.”  
  
Chibs eyed her curiously.  
  
“Having that kind of attitude isn’t gonna get her back, Filip, I’ll tell you that much. You’ve got a strong-willed old lady. She’s not gonna take your shit and just accept it. You’ve gotta show her you’re sorry for what you did… make it up to her. Earn back her trust.”  
  
“An’ how am I supposed tae do that?”  
  
Gemma rolled her eyes. “You’ve been in a relationship with her for two years, Chibby… you know her better than I do. You’ll figure it out.”


End file.
